


Come Home

by queenberena



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenberena/pseuds/queenberena
Summary: Set when Bernie's in Ukraine. What if Bernie is unable to return, even if she wanted to, because she gets injured out in Kiev? Serena finds out, with the help of Bernie's sister Kate, and flies out there to her.Some mention of trauma injury, perhaps slightly graphic at times.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while and have been writing it on and off; I've got 6 chapters so far so hopefully updates will be regular. 
> 
> I am not a doctor or nurse, so I apologise in advance if any medical stuff is inaccurate (trust me, it will be!). I have tried to research but it didn't go overly well.
> 
> Bernie will make a proper appearance from chapter 5 onwards.
> 
> And I may have borrowed someone and adapted them slightly to fit in with my idea...;)

Serena groaned inwardly. Flopping harshly into the comfort of her office chair, her fingertips massaged at her aching temples, applying firm, pin-pointed pressure in aim of alleviating the pulsating pound.

 

The headache was harsh, limbs and muscles achy and a fuzzy sensation had clouded her mind and cast a dreary haze. Hungover. Induced by consumption of extensive abundances of shiraz last night, in a contemporary jazz bar. She regretted that decision immensely. The intention of drowning away her misery and heartache had failed, instead replaced with presumed, vivid hallucinations that were gruelling torture.

 

_Veiled in a quiet corner, with one or two bottles of shiraz propped on the secluded table, Serena scanned her surroundings. Observing the world pass by, couples and groups idling chatting over leisurely drinks and basking the music. Lost in her own thoughts._

 

_A live jazz band hummed melodies and tunes that filled the spacious room with a cordial ambience. Matched with cool blue lights that absorbed the bar in a subtle haze with reflections. The bar was glass, anchored into the corner in a smooth curve, polished and glistening in the lights._

 

_Now, the harmonies were starting to frazzle into the distance. Serena's focus was subsiding with every sip of the exquisite red wine, noise fading away and away. The last drops of her third glass - perhaps it was her fourth - trickled down her throat satisfyingly. Very palatable indeed, with fruity and zesty notes. Deep pink lipstick ghosted the edge of the crystal glass, neatly printed in the shape of her lips._

 

_Jazz After Dark. A place Bernie and Serena had often discussed visiting, subsequent to their newly discovered mutual interest for the genre of music. Until the army medic had hastily departed to eastern Europe._

 

_So, now, she was here. Alone._

 

_And the deep crimson liquid streamed into the glass from the elevated bottle once again, tiny droplets of the precious wine splashing at the rim, rolling back down into the dark pool with soft pings that were muffled by background noise._

 

_Serena stopped pouring mid-flow, depositing the bottle onto the table top. Something had captured her eyes, snatching her complete attention and transporting her away from her thoughts._

 

_She blinked. Dark amber orbs gazing._

 

_A tall woman, long toned legs clad in smart skinny jeans. A crisp, white shirt and ankle boots completed the outfit. As she folded her arms, the material of her blouse strained across her chest, muscles flexed and beautifully shaped. Her blonde locks were twisted into a clip, just wisps of her fringe cascading into her eyes and framing her radiant face._

 

_Her laugh was warm and hearty, reverberating through the air, Serena noted as she strained her ears. Husked words that were rich and elegant as she participated in chat with other members of her party. The smile was infectious, sparkling all the way to the twinkle of her bright eyes._

 

_Just like Bernie._

 

_But it couldn't be. The surgeon swiftly grasped the patterned stem of the wine glass, draining a generous mouthful. And she drunk, and drunk, and drunk. Submerging away these dreams that her very own eyes taunted her with._

 

_Through blearily vision, all induced by the copious shiraz, and long eyelashes, Serena repeatedly found her gaze wandering back towards that stretch of bar, fixed on the very same person despite her best attempts not to rudely stare._

 

Pills were swallowed with a generous gulp of coffee and her heavy eyelids fluttered shut. A double shot expresso. Courtesy of Fletch, after her initial caffeine fix had been discarded hurriedly to the nurses station, and subsequently gone cold in her absence.

 

The lift doors had opened on AAU level, and she stepped out onto the ward. Only to be greeted in a whirlwind by Raf, announcing a red phone emergency.

 

"Trauma emergency. Unknown male, approximately early thirties, wearing army fatigues. ETA-"

 

Scottish accent thick with sincerity, he tilted his arm to peer at his watch, mentally calculating the sums,

 

"-three minutes and forty-eight seconds. GCS of 4 and penetrating trauma; double gunshot wounds to the abdomen to be precise. The trauma bay is being prepped as we speak.."

 

"Right, thanks Raf."

 

And she had dashed towards the locker room to exchange her attire for scrubs. A gunshot penetration guaranteed surgery, as soon as the primary assessment was complete and the patient stabilised.

 

Arriving with a fallen GCS of 3, BP low at 90/65, and a slow pulse of 60, they had worked quickly and sufficiently to stabilise the unconscious patient. 8 units of O neg were prepared and bloods cross matched as all necessary tests and a CT were ordered.

 

His anonymous identity added to complications, limiting the doctors to work with scientific, medical information presented in front of them. With unsurprising internal bleeding displayed on the scan results, the soldier had been rushed into surgery for an exploratory laparoscopy.

 

Serena managed to efficiently fix the damage the bullet had caused to his liver, suturing the damaged blood vessels upon entrance and exit route. However, his spleen was severed and she was left with no option but to perform an emergency splenectomy. But the plot only thickened when they discovered some superficial burns to his right side, poorly treated with infection starting.

 

Neat stitches concluded the surgery, Serena glanced at the stats and was satisfied that it had been a success. She had instructed a couple of skilled nurses to attend to the burn wounds, to clean and apply appropriate dressings and administer and IV line of antibiotics. Scrubbing out, she had retired to her office.

 

The surgeon polished off her coffee quickly, the heat radiating through the thin takeaway cup to warm her hands. There was no chance this drink was going cold. And she hoped that the caffeine injection would be enough to aid her through what she anticpated to be monotonous shift.

 

"I am far _too_ old for going out on a work night."

 

She muttered beneath her breath, resuming the motion of rubbing at her temples.

 

What she really _needed_ right now was a long, hot bath. Immersed beneath thick bubbles, to the extent water was able to run into her ears and block out the noises of the world, lapping at the nape of her neck. Eyes closed, and nostrils tickled by the tender scent of cinnamon wafting through the confined air from the burning candle that flooded with room with pale yellow light.

 

Her candles had once been strictly vanilla. But, now, vanilla only added to her pine for her big macho army medic. Vanilla reminded her of Bernie; moments after that very first intoxicating kiss, she had enveloped her into her arms and nuzzled her face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the faint vanilla smell from her hair.

 

It lingered. So teasingly. It was so simple, yet _so_ Bernie.

 

And, then, she would crawl into an empty bed. Swathe herself in the silk sheets and heavy duvet, and hopefully drift into a slumber.

 

Serena's trail of thoughts was interrupted with a start by a knock on the office door, eyes snapping open and catching a glimpse at the tower of impending paperwork. She grumbled quietly, casting an eye towards the door.

 

"Yes? Do come in."

 

She cleared her throat, grasped a patient file and attempted to make it look like she was busy rather than just vegetating and feeling extremely sorry for herself.

 

Raf ambled in tentatively, hands tucked into the pockets of his scrubs.

 

"Sorry to bother you, but there is an officer here from the army regarding our John Doe, uh-"

 

He scratched his head momentarily, racking his brain for a name.

 

"Sergeant Wolfe."


	2. Chapter 2

  
The piercing clip of heeled boots echoed against the tacky linoleum floors, a paced rhythm amplified quickly and alerted them to the officer's approaching presence. A tall, slender female entered, delivering a curt smile and nod of silent thanks to the Scottish doctor.

 

Serena skimmed the woman intently from the seat of her desk. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she noted the blonde hair, dominant features and toned frame. It accumulated rapidly, verging starving her lungs of required oxygen. Dark pupils widened significantly, opaque with a yearning lust and sparkle of fleeting hope.

 

She placed the heels of her hands flat against the desk, the cool wood welcoming to her clammy palms. And she hauled herself to her feet, steadied against the edge of the unit, blowing out a trembled breath.

 

" _Bernie_ ,"

 

It was a thick, low murmur. Spoken before the brunette could engage her brain and consider her words.

 

Perhaps, it even sounded desperate. From deep within her soul, the centre of her shattered heart. Because twenty-four hours prior, Hanssen had dutifully dropped the latest news that Bernie had chosen to stay on in Kyiv, with no explanation.

 

The blonde stepped forwards, proffering her right hand and extracting her military identity card from her pocket with her other as she introduced herself and status.

 

"Actually, I'm Sergeant Drusilla Wolfe, SIB, Military Police Detective. Call me Kate, please."

 

Serena extended her own hand sincerely and gave a firm shake, fiercely fighting the threatening pink tinge of her cheeks and the tips of her ears. With a hoarse cough, she cleared her throat,

 

"Sorry, you just look very similar to someone else I know. Serena Campbell."

 

Her thoughts twisted, engulfed by a new puzzle that she deciphered she must solve - out of curiosity - later. Why did she choose to be known as Kate if her name was actually Drusilla? There was no initial resemblance.

 

Formalities over, Kate suppressed a nod, lips curled into a small, candid smile. Next, she was straight to the point; direct and rather blunt.

 

"Is the clinical lead of this department available?"

 

Out of nowhere, a sudden bite of rage levitated from the pit of her stomach. Serena narrowed her steady gaze, authority glazing her manner boldly. Hadn't this officer perceived the plaque bolted to the door, clearly engraved with the clinical leads' respective names. Additionally, Raf had kindly pointed her in the right direction.

 

"You're speaking to her."

 

Faint lines creased Kate's forehead as her lips twitched into a marginal frown, slightly taken a back. And she faltered, though swiftly recovering her demeanour, but it didn't go unnoticed to Serena.

 

"Oh..I thought Ms Wolfe was in charge of AAU?"

 

"We are _joint_ leads. However, Ms Wolfe is currently unavailable, but I am more than capable in assisting your enquiries."

 

Serena stated matter-of-factly, an underlying conceit hinting her tone. Because, frankly, the assumption that her missing colleague was her superior was quite belittling and offending. AAU was still functioning perfectly fine without Bernie.

 

Kate hastily covered her tracks, profoundly apologising with respect before articulating the reasoning for her presence.

 

"Of course, sorry. I've come to visit your John Doe patient. Reckon he could be our missing soldier. I hope to identify him and conduct forward as I see fit."

 

The brunette nodded and stepped away from her desk, pausing as subconsciously curling her fingertips to the palms of her hands into fists and uncoiled them again. She looked the woman up and down, blinking as she pondered.

 

Then, she simply blurted out her own questions, before her brain could talk her out of the brusque nature of her content.

 

"Uh- _would_ I be correct in thinking that you know Ms Wolfe? After all, considering she has been on leave for over two months now...not to mention you do share the same surname. Some coincidence?"

 

Kate wasn't surprised at the probe. Not even the minimalist adjustments to her posture. It was as though she had anticipated the grilling; she _had_ anticipated the question.

 

" _Sisters_."

 

A trifling smile glittered her features. The army detective continued when greeted with intent quietness, an encouraging nod of acknowledgement from the surgeon in response.

 

"In fact, I do vaguely recall Cameron mentioning something about Bernie going off to Ukraine come to think of it. Running; something along the lines of yet _more_ cowardice and undeniable feelings for someone; burying the hatchet instead of facing up to it."

 

Serena observed the light jerk of her shoulders, the concentration that engulfed her facial expression as she tried to recall. Her own eyes were large again, flashing with vulnerability that was quickly obscured by the dark masked front.

 

"Did he?"

 

It was a meek whisper, scarcely audible. _Rhetorical_. She paled and swallowed a breath that she hadn't even realised she was holding, internally lecturing herself to get a grip on her emotions.

 

_Bloody Berenice Bloody Wolfe._

 

"Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear about our family dramas. So, this patient?"

 

Serena nodded, opening her mouth to speak but the words just didn't flow immediately. Her complexion was a ghostly grey, colour yet to flush her cheeks once more. Lifting the coffee cup from the pine desk, she sighed exasperatedly when she remembered it was empty and swiftly walked towards the door, holding her head high.

 

Kate, unhelpfully, chuckled a throaty laugh. She herself had completed that little series of actions many a time before. With an eyebrow arced, disappearing beneath her fringe, she smirked knowingly.

 

"Bad head? Perhaps hungover is a more accurate description. You were downing that red wine last night, rather impressively actually."

 

Pireouetting on her heels, with immense speed and skill, Serena narrowed a scowl towards the blonde, her own eyebrows raising high.

 

"I'm sorry, what?"

 

"Jazz After Dark bar? Regent Street. I saw you, in the corner alone. And, I think you saw me, truth be known."

 

Had her staring, that she had tried so hard to evade, really been that blatantly obvious? She could feel the tickle of rose blushing her cheeks. Momentarily, her eyes flicked shut, and then snapped open once more. She swallowed with an awkward smile, lips pursed.

 

"You have a keen eye."

 

"Comes with the territory. I was actually working undercover all night, hence why I'm still wearing last night's clothes. I got the call this morning and headed straight for the hospital."

 

"You look so fresh faced for someone who hasn't slept!"

 

Serena complimented how Kate's unblemished skin still looked so glowing, a healthy shimmer radiating her slightly pronounced cheekbones, cheeks rosy from the crisp morning weather. But then, she probably didn't consume one or two bottle of shiraz last night.

 

Unlike her own appearance. The surgeon had attempted, albeit poorly through her blurry vision, to conceal the dark rings that circled her eyes with foundation. Foundation could no longer mask her sleep deprivation, or how the colour was unhealthily fading from her cheeks that now looked dull.

 

Heartache had steered her to a slight lack of self care, swamping herself into extra shifts at the hospital, unable to switch off from the lost thoughts that threatened to consume her. Serena's face dropped a little more, thoughts reflecting on Bernie again.

 

The detective responded with a silent smile. Serena cracked herself from the looming trance of negativity, a viscous circle of blame and what ifs. Instead, she captivated her mind back to the job; she had wasted enough of this woman's time, and the poor person hadn't even slept! For now, anyway.

 

"Right, the patient. He should be awake by now, to help your inquest further, assuming it is him. It's just this way, follow me."


	3. Chapter 3

They entered the side room that had been allocated to the soldier quietly, sliding through the mechanised doors tentatively. He'd not long been wheeled through from recovery, evidently having come round from the anaesthesia yet still incredibly lethargic from the trauma and drugs pumping through his veins.

 

As suspected, he was now currently sleeping.

 

Serena glanced towards the machines and monitors, the steady, constant beeps and stable lines that scattered the graphs were regular, and informed her that his progress was fine.

 

Her fingertips clasped round the charts suspended from the edge of the bed while Kate extracted her phone from her jean pocket. Serena skimmed the content, checking for anything new in her short absence before clearing her throat, eyebrows puckered and scrutinising.

 

"Do you know who it is?"

 

Kate twisted round on her toes, the heel of her shoe clapping against the floor, and she gave a satisfied nod.

 

"The missing piece in a messy case I've been investigating for a number of weeks. Hopefully, he will be able to help us properly fix this puzzle and decipher what really happened."

 

"What's his name? It's just-"

 

"Yes, right. Of course, sorry. This man is Private Michael Kennedy."

 

Serena nodded and quickly scribbled the name across the top of his charts, the cheap biro scratching against the paper then clinking as it collided with the metal bed railing, swinging from a strand of string. She made a mental note to search him on the system and scan through his records in case of any allergies or prescribed medication.

 

"Mr Kennedy has also sustained some moderate burns, initially we thought they were superficial but on closer inspection, they could be more severe. The source remains unknown to us though."

 

Lips pursed, Kate nodded her head as she tucked a stray lock of unruly, blonde hair behind her ear. "Fits in with the case."

 

The army detective perceived the bewildered expression crease Serena's features and exhaled a delicate sigh.

 

"It's strictly confidential, I'm sorry I can't clarify further. Did the surgery go okay?"

 

"Relatively. Well, as okay as possible given the injuries. I managed to save his liver, however I had to remove his spleen meaning he will require tablets now for the rest of his life."

 

It was facts, simple candid facts. Spoken solemnly with very little facial appearance to accompany the words.

 

Kate alternated her attentive gaze between the doctor and patient fleetingly, a notepad and pen in hand where she recorded brief notes to report to her senior with. Vigilantly, she detected some minor changes in his behaviour; Kennedy was rousing from his slumber.

 

"Since Private Kennedy is waking, I'd like to stay and ask him some questions-"

 

Serena's lips parted, reluctance swallowing her posture, prepared to counteract the request in her patient's best interests.

 

"I'll keep it light, and quick, I promise." Kate added.

 

"Very well. I cannot guarantee he will make much sense however, and he will still be extremely fatigued as a knock-on effect. Mr Kennedy requires plenty of rest - and that's doctors orders."

 

Satisfied her point was crystal clear, Serena retreated to her office, determined to tackle the mountain of paperwork that seemed to only multiple as Fletch deposited yet more files onto her desk with an apologetic glint.

 

It was a while later before Serena was interrupted again. She had completed a surprising amount of paperwork considering her hungover state, but the pile was finally decreasing. Granted permission, Kate entered the office and shut the door behind her.

 

"I will be back tomorrow to resume questioning. Private Kennedy has fallen asleep for now, and I need to convey back to base. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms Campbell."

 

"Well thank you for identifying him. Makes our job a whole lot easier now we have his details and history. I will keep you updated of any changes?"

 

"That would be greatly appreciated." Kate dropped her card onto the desk and said her goodbyes before striding towards the door, coat shrugged back over her shoulders.

 

"Kate,"

 

Serena's voice fractured the brief silence that basked the atmosphere. A wave rippled through the single word, laced with hints of hesitance and a spark of vulnerability. Formalities had been discarded, a personal level adopted, and for a split second the frosty glaze that masked her eyes subsided, revealing the twinkle of unshed teardrops.

 

The blonde halted, rotating to face Serena. Her cocoa eyes softened, a resemblance of concern expressing her features.

 

She inhaled a sharp breath and blew it out. Her demeanour had shifted, the confident doctor in her replaced by the heartbroken and quietly lost soul within. A question blurted from her lips, so slurred with emotion that it sounded squeaky and uncontemplated. Probably because it _was_.

 

"Do you fancy a drink sometime?"

 

Kate coughed slightly, fingertips subconsciously playing with her fringe. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were asking me out on a date."

 

Serena's pupils amplified, the whiteness indicating her mortified and horrified thoughts at the response. She really she have considered her phrasing. Panic riddled her tone, blazing through like a fire in her ramble.

 

"No, no! I didn't mean it _like_ that. I, uh- you could be married, or in a relationship or-"

 

"Relax, it was a joke. Married to the job would be a more accurate description."

 

Kate paused. Her voice smooth and tender, the brunette thought she may have espied an edge of sadness to the latter sentence. She continued, eyes narrowed in an intelligent way, eerily like her sister's knowing style.

 

"This is about Bernie isn't it?"

 

_Rhetorical_. She was calm and collected, hands now curled into the pockets of her jeans. Her job was to analysis people and things intently; she'd watched how Serena's guard changed at the mention of her sibling. She had figured it out. Because she had experienced similar events in her own life.

 

"What?! _No!_ Yes..no...maybe-"

 

Who was she kidding? Serena sighed. Her fingertips drummed anxiously against the surface of her desk, her entire body tense. She purposely evaded eye contact but captured a glimpse of the proffered smile, so genuine and kind. _Reassuring_.

 

"I'll be at the _Moon & Stars_ tonight at 8, if that's any good with you?"

 

~\~\~

 

Precisely thirteen minutes early, Serena ambled through the pub doors, greeted by a blast of toasty air that warmed the chill to her bones from the frosty skies outside. A fire crackled and hissed, vibrant flames of deep reds and burnt oranges dancing high, filling the traditional style pub with a homely smokey aura.

 

Serena browsed the inhabitants, shrugging the quilted coat from her shoulders and allowed her body to absorb the heat of the pub that was alive with the hum of chatter. Despite being ahead of schedule herself, Kate was even more punctual.

 

Her honey locks had been freed from the restraint of a clip, bouncing in soft curls that framed her face, fringe curling over her eyes. Unmissable. The sisters had very much inherited the same wild hair. Kate had saved them a table, two drinks set on coasters. A tall glass of clear liquid complete with a lime floating near the rim, and a generous glass of shiraz. But no bottle in sight. Still, full marks for attention to detail.

 

Serena breezed through the crowds, joining the detective at the table. "Good evening."

 

"Serena, hi." Kate welcomed with a hearty smile, gesturing towards the wine glass as she sipped at her own drink.

 

"You literally read my mind! Shiraz is exactly what the doctor ordered. Thank you."

 

Serena gulped a mouthful of the wine down, sighing contently as the zesty and flavoursome notes collided with her tastebuds.

 

"I figured after your rather busy morning you would be appreciative, and I can only hope your day improved. Though I only ordered by the glass; we do not want to induce another hangover."

 

"Wise words. Private Kennedy is doing well, his stats are still very positive and he is settled."

 

The blonde nodded, the light curls ebbing at her defined jawline. "Thanks for the update. Though, I don't think we came here to talk work."

 

"No.." Serena murmured, masked with a blow of breath.

 

Silence lingered, Kate blinking and watching, full of patience. She swallowed some more shiraz, tentatively depositing the glass back onto the beer mat and traced her fingertips around the circular base of the glass, mentally debating her starter line.

 

Where did she even begin? She settled for a safe, reserved question.

 

"Have you heard from Bernie recently?"

 

"Depends on your take on ' _recent_ '. We'd be talking weeks, but then that isn't unusual; it can be difficult to keep contact. Our adult lives have been occupied with incredibly demanding jobs. Not to say that we weren't once close. Not to mention the amount of time we've been in different countries, with ruling circumstances."

 

The brunette nodded. "Of course."

 

Kate detected a clip of sadness lacing the words, big amber eyes searching for finer details. She cleared her throat, deciding she would take control and initiate some direction.

 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'd assume you haven't heard from her?"

 

"No. Believe me, I've tried. But all I get back is radio silence. What about her children?"

 

She huffed with bitterness, a retaliation of the amplifying hurt from within. Now, she was instantly regretting the hostility of her tone.

 

"Things are still tense between them, resent is lingering from the rage of the divorce. I think it's safe to say their contact would be very limited, if at all existent. Cameron mentioned her going to Ukraine in the midst of a rant regarding her cowardice. I'd presume everyone is receiving the silent treatment, while she has time to set things straight in her head."

 

Serena drifted back to their earlier conversation in the office, curiosity piqued again. Kate had touched upon things vaguely, but no statement of the extent and details exchanged. Her next question was direct, she needed facts.

 

Did she know what had crumpled their marriage? Had they discussed Marcus's manipulating ways, Cameron and Charlotte's involvement in the divorce?

 

"How much do you know?"

 

However, the surgeon hadn't quite anticipated the response she got. Now, her own vagueness was showing.

 

"Nothing concrete. But I can form educated assumptions. For instance, you are rather concerned and effected by radio silence from the woman who is simply supposed to just be a _colleague_. Which leads me to guess that you are _more_ than colleagues, _more_ than friends even...I think you are the person Bernie has feelings for, though she refuses to admit it, and I think that those feelings are reciprocated."

 

Serena gulped. Her lips parted. But she failed to form a sentence, she couldn't even suppress an utter. Stunned to silence. Internally cursing her naivety; Kate was just as brainy and elusive as her sibling.

 

"Bernie has never confessed anything upfront regarding her sexuality. And I never pressed her about it. Our parents were very old fashioned and religious. They thought the world of us, but would never have accepted a gay - or perhaps, bisexual - daughter. I've always had an inkling since she was 19, I was 18, and something happened. Something changed Bernie. Then she hurried into a relationship with Marcus. Suddenly it all made sense when I was 21. And my suspects were confirmed when it all came out about Alex."

 

Serena nodded slowly before drinking more wine; it took all her willpower not to empty the glass. Kate wouldn't allow her to drink her thoughts and emotions numb. Kate's voice was so steady and composed, truthful yet sensitive.

 

She was intrigued, but her confidence betrayed her, the shiraz intake still low and yet to soak through her veins - it was probably just as well, in case she engaged mouth before brain. Prying wasn't her style. So she played it safe again with a humoured remark.

 

"I highly doubt Bernie would approve of this conversation." The hum of an honest chuckle erupted at the back of Serena's throat, spilling from her lips.

 

Kate's own lips quirked into a smirk that glittered up to her eyes, gently correcting the statement and imploring for confirmation. "No, she wouldn't approve full stop. But I'm right, aren't I?"

 

"How do you know?"

 

"Because I've been _in_ love before. And the bitch ripped out my heart and stomped it to dust. Like I was dirt. Like I was _nothing_. That's why I joined the military police. I know what it feels like to be heartbroken and I can see the symptoms in others. I believe Bernie went through something similar of her own, but she opted for the safe route, for what our parents wanted. A husband. Gave them grandkids. While I chose to stay alone, saves the heartache."

 

Serena blinked, listening carefully and with great concentration. For the first time, vulnerability had choked Kate's manner faintly, and she downed her G&T yet still held her nerve guardedly.

 

"Kate, I'm sorry."

 

"Don't be. It's in the past. Now, I'm going to text Bernie, because I believe you are her shot of real happiness." The detective slid her phone from her pocket, thumbs tapping at the screen as she composed a message.

 

Serena swallowed dryly, an apprehensive sensation fluttering through the pit of her stomach, almost convulsing into knots. Fixated on the mesmerising motion of skilled fingers typing at an impressive speed, she cleared her throat.

 

"Can I get you another drink?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for those who have read and commented :) I have planned up to chapter 9 but who knows what will happen after that! Will try to include a flashback/recap of the story of 19 year old Bernie that Kate referenced to in the previous chapter, at a later day.
> 
> happy first year of Bernie Wolfe! 
> 
> I don't speak (or write for that matter) Ukrainian, so have used google translate. And I've chosen to insert the pronunciations rather than the properly wrote translations because it appears they have a tonne of letters our keyboards didn't, and it's speech so? idk, sorry.

 

Throughout the week, Sergeant Wolfe frequently returned to the hospital. Continuing to check on he soldier and conduct forward with the investigations related to the case. And, finally, she was reaching the end of the complex mess she'd had to interrogate and delve among.

 

The whirring of the coffee machine dulled, and Serena carried the mugs of freshly brewed coffee to her desk, pushing one towards the military detective. Strong and hot. She dropped back into her office chair and shuffled to a comfy position.

 

"I never got to ask earlier, but curiosity killed the cat as it were." Serena blinked through her long eyelashes, a warm, inquisitive manner dominant. "How do you get Kate out of Drusilla? It's really quite a marvel."

 

With a kind smile returned, Kate sipped at her coffee and relished the flavours. Her first proper cup of the day. Beautiful, rustic coffee beans. Unlike the dishwater like blend at the base that certainly didn't warrant the prestigious label. "My name is actually Drusilla Katherine; I simply chose to go by my shortened middle name some years ago."

 

"Makes sense." Serena nodded. Bernie was short for Berenice; and that was her personal preference. "Drusilla and Berenice? That combination of names rings a bell-"

 

"Yes." Clearing her throat, she manoeuvred in the chair and straightened her posture. "The names originate from sisters in the bible, our parents were strictly religious. Why they had to choose that duo in particular, I'm not entirely sure.." Kate wrinkled her nostrils in a cringe.

 

Serena racked her brains and murmured, "I recall vaguely. Didn't they hate each other rather profusely?"

 

"Precisely." Kate's rich, husky laugh reverberated the confined walls of the office, "Bernie and I have always joked about it because we actually get along very well." A pause. "Normally anyway!" All siblings had friendly disputes, right?

 

Her own melodious laugh breathed from Serena's lipstick coated lips and she swallowed some more coffee. "I am sure you were probably quite a troublesome pair back in your youth. But then, weren't we all?"

 

Lips parted and eyes large and wide, the blonde pretended to be shocked before she raked a hand through her fringe and smirked coyly with a wink. "We were as good as gold; well, we _never_ got caught. Everybody smoked a couple of roll ups, snuck out late at night to attend parties and neck cheap drink from the bottle. Drinking games. Learning to drink the lads from Bernie's football team under the table..only because we swapped the vodka for water."

 

"I am not surprised in the slightest. Bernie has still retained her feisty, witty and strong-headed temperament; one would presume you are very similar also, I have already gathered that you are equally a strong and independent woman."

 

Kate wiggled her eyebrows beneath her golden fringe, "I don't believe for one minute that you didn't do something in your adolescent that wasn't perhaps sanctioned."

 

"I never denied that I haven't." Serena smiled dryly, "In fact, the one party I shouldn't have attended was the biggest mistake of my youth. I was supposed to be studying for an exam. And that night, I met the man who is now my former husband. And failed that wretched exam." A huff, the very tips of her ears tinted a rosy pink.

 

She snorted a chuckle, and lifted her mug from the wooden desk.

 

The surgeon's fingertips trailed the circumference of her own mug, gaze momentarily fixed on the bright lipstick print at the edge. "Cameron is on the ward today..."

 

She started, Kate tilting her head to the side with interest and a silent nod to continue.

 

"On placement." Clarification. "However, rather than concentrating on patients, he seems to be chatting up one of our F2 doctors. Quite the charmer it seems. Much _like_ his mother."

 

Serena pursed her lips and paused fleetingly, lips open yet words stopped. More coffee was consumed. And she murmured the next line, low and thick. "I just hope he's not such a _heartbreaker_."

 

"Changes his telephone number when he wants to end it with a girl. Or so I've heard."

 

"What?!" Serena exclaimed, coughing and spluttering on her coffee.

 

"Don't worry, he inherited that trait from Marcus." Blunt and sincere. A statement. Loose blonde curls were all that were visible for a moment, Kate's face disappearing from view as she bent down to retrieve some paperwork from her bag.

 

It was time for business now. As pleasant as idly chatting over proper coffee was, the real purpose of the detective's visit today needed addressing.

 

A notepad was propped on the desk. Fresh, crisp sheet. Serena watched as Kate tucks her hair neatly behind her ears and prepares the pen to write, setting it between her thumb, index and middle finger.

 

"I require all Private Kennedy's medical jargon, so we can complete his medical discharge from service and issue him with it later this week." The words were fluent and smooth, flowing effortlessly from her lips. No messing about; forthright and direct to the point. And the tiny kitten heel of her orange shoes clicked against the floor.

 

"Right, of course." Serena's lips tighten into a small smile as she digs out the patient folder and opens the contents, "So he definitely has no future with the forces?"

 

"We have no doubt that he could recover fully from most of his injuries. We still have people serving who have survived bullet injuries. However, the spleen removal makes things more complicated, and that would fail the medical. Frankly, I think he _will_ be quite pleased to be discharged given the situation." She jerks her shoulders and exhales a sigh.

 

"Is that to do with the case you spoke about before?"

 

"Yes."

 

Serena cocked her head to the side and stretches her neck, features adopted with an imploring expression of probing and interest. This lady certainly has a stimulating and fascinating job. No two days are identical; a mutual with her own career in medicine.

 

"I cannot express great depths. But, his initial actions lead to a _very_ personal attack of which didn't go to plan. Infidelity and homemade bombs aren't a good combo." Kate narrowed her gaze. Explains the shrapnel in the burns and cuts, Serena thought.

 

"He was lucky to escape that, must have been on the very outskirts of the explosion, we reckon, to just sustain those burns. He wasn't so lucky later that his _hunter_ found him and shot him. Twice. The other soldier involved has been reprimanded and dealt with."

 

The surgeon raised her eyebrows high and blew out a breath. "I'd take the discharge too." She agreed. The details regarding Private Kennedy's health were disclosed, spilling from her mouth with confidence and credible expertise, Kate scribbling down notes.

  
~\~\~

  
Her office door knocked, Serena beckoning her welcomes, a slight smile crossing her features as she perceived the Sergeant enter and closed the door tightly. "Hello Kate."

 

"Serena," She nods curtly.

 

There was a distinctive edge to Kate. The cordial ambience that usually accompanied her presence absent. Replaced with unease compelling her stoic stance. And the mood dropped; the room filling with thick tension. _Iced_.

 

Awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other repeatedly, hands tucked in the pockets of her trousers, Kate chews at her lower lip as she contemplated her words. "I assume you haven't heard from Bernie still?"

 

"No." Serena concurred and pulled herself to her feet, eyes inky with anticipation that slowly immersed her entire body and she gripped the edge of her desk. She swallows, "I'm guessing you haven't?"

 

Kate shook her head, running long, slender fingers through her curls. She thinks again into the silence, musing over how to get what she needs without causing alarm. "Cameron hasn't even - I spoke to him briefly while handing Private Kennedy his military discharge forms not long ago. Can you point me in the direction of the CEO's office, please?"

 

"Mr Hanssen?" The surgeon's lips curved negatively into a perplexed frown, narrowing her gaze directly as she examined closely for clues. "Why do you want to speak to him?"

 

Kate extracts her hands from her pockets before stuffing them back in again and turned on her heel. She couldn't lie, Serena was wise and onto something. "I want him to disclose specific details on the hospital where Bernie's secondment is stationed."

 

" _What_?! Why?" Serena quickly side stepped towards the office door and obstructed the only route out. "You _know_ something, don't you? Kate, talk to me. _Now_!" Assertion stamped the command, demanding insight. It wasn't an ask; it was a must.

 

"I don't _know_ anything!" Clarification in defence. And the blonde folded her arms across her chest, her shirt taunt against flexed muscles. "I just have instincts. I'm trained to follow my gut feeling. Never failed me yet."

 

Serena sucked in a sharp breath, her teeth gritted. And uncomfortably her stomach torsions, twisting and contorting into tight knots.

 

"I've sent some rather blunt and brusque messages in the last twenty-four hours. Perhaps you could even call them snappy, rude _and_ abrupt. Bernie still hasn't answered, and she knows fully well that those are the types of message that you at least acknowledge."

 

The military detective rubbed at her aching temples, applying pin-pointed pressure with her index finger, and blows out a sigh. "I don't know, something just doesn't feel right. I have to pursue my instincts. I only want to call the hospital, see what's happening."

 

Serena immediately moved from the doorway and hurled open the door. "Mr Hanssen's office is just this way."

 

With excellent persuasion skills - Serena was impressed - Kate managed to convince Henrik to divulge the hospital where the blonde was posted. Because, they only had Bernie's best interests and welfare at heart. They returned to the brunette's office equipped with the direct extension line to Kiev's trauma unit.

 

Kate tapped the number into her mobile, sinking into the chair and dug out a Ukrainian translation dictionary from her jacket. She knows small phrases, broken words of the language. Hopes for an English speaker at the other end. But is prepared to brush up on her own pronunciations, pages already organised and marked for quick reference.

 

Serena grumbled as she swiftly learnt that the person at the other end of the line evidently did not speak English. And she didn't speak Ukrainian, therefore unable to follow the one-sided conversation she could witness. Instead, she annoyingly drummed her fingertips against the wood of the desk top nervously.

 

" _Pryvit, ya mozhu hovoryty z Bernie Wolfe budʹ laska._ " [Hello, can I speak with Bernie Wolfe please.]

 

A pause. Tense silence that lingered.

 

" _De vona? YA chekayu, poky vy yiyi znayty. Vazhlyvo_." [Where is she? I wait while you find her. Is important.]

 

The blonde's eyes widened significantly at what she was told. A harsh, concerned frown creasing her features. And her tone etched up a level; exasperated and clipped, laced with muffled worry. " _Patsiyent sama? yaka avariya?!_ " [A patient herself? What accident!?]

 

" _Dyakuyu. Ya v dorozi._ " [Thank you. I'm on my way.]

 

Kate ended the phone call, depositing her mobile securely back into her pocket and sighed deeply. She reluctantly met Serena's fretful pupils and sad lips, hands clasped together while she twiddled her thumbs impatiently.

 

"Well?!"

 

"Bernie's been injured." An unadulterated confession. Kate was already picking herself back to her feet, collecting her belongings, "I don't know details but I'm getting on the next flight out there."

 

Serena gasped, eyes ample and deep with fear, glazing with tears and nerves. And her frame trembled through no control of her own, reply sharp and uttered matter-of-factly. "I'm coming with you!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the comments :) they've arrived in Ukraine..

The leaves, arrays and curls of auburns, ambers and gold, scattered the frosty ground, crunching beneath the soles of pacing boots. In tangent, Serena and Kate gaited through the paved streets of Kiev, dusk settling in the cement grey skies, the final traces of natural light soon to be swept away. Street lamps flickered, casting shadows in the midsts of orange-yellow glows.

 

The pair had hopped on the next flight out of London to Ukraine, hurriedly dropping their luggage in the hotel and inquiring for directions to the hospital. Broken navigations; simply deciphering lefts and rights from the little Ukrainian they had quickly tried to memorise during the flight.

 

Gusts of bitter wind swirled around them, hints of winter already arriving with vengeance. The last dried leaves fluttered from the stripped tree branches, whirling around them as they danced in the breeze, a ghostly reminder of the warm summer. Serena huddled further into her quilted coat, gloved fingers curling into her pockets and her head dipped and faux fur hat acting as a barrier against the weather.

 

Entering through the automated doors of the capital's hospital, they headed to the main reception. They navigated their way through the long, narrow corridors, painted in a dull shade of pale grey; not the slightest part appealing, or hope filling. Stationed on the third floor, they located the ward where Bernie was situated. Serena assumed it was the Ukraine version of a trauma unit.

 

**'блок травми'**

 

She recalled the brief conversation she and Bernie had shared when the confession had initially arose about the secondment, discussing how the Ukrainian word was spelt and pronounced.

 

That discovery made the surgeon swallow thickly, her heart thumped against her chest and, momentarily, her lungs gasped and protested at the oxygen starvation as she forgot to inhale and exhale. The realisation hit hard, Bernie's must have sustained rather serious injuries to warrant ward allocation. Acidic bile rose in the back of her throat, eyes widened with a potent fear.

 

"Serena, are you okay?"

 

Kate's voice shattered the deafening silence that had temporarily absorbed the brunette, as though the world had suddenly stopped spinning. A gentle concern laced the words with a tender touch.

 

Serena's head snapped round, and she nodded hastily and tugged her coat further around her frame, the heavy material acting as a source of lacking comfort. "Uh- _yes_. Fine, absolutely fine. Let's go find Bernie."

 

It was pristine. All new, state of the art equipment. A red phone situated centrally on the nurse's station, complete with an emergency bay that was always prepared for emergency, life-saving operations should a theatre be unavailable. Much like the trauma bay that had been added to AAU.

 

Nurse Oksana was the first member of staff they encountered, and, thankfully, the first person who was fluent in English. However, she wasn't as helpful as Serena had wished, divulging very little information on Bernie's condition - she was only doing her job, as Ms Wolfe requested, and respecting patient confidentiality.

 

Bernie had chosen for nobody back home to be contacted regarding her health; just an email to be sent to Hanssen saying she was staying, no explanation. She was stable and resting, after a trauma injury that had required immediate surgery, five days ago. No in depth details.

 

Oksana granted Kate permission to access the side room Bernie occupied, Serena denied entry until Ms Wolfe herself allowed approval because she wasn't a relative. The brunette grumbled loudly, the chunky heels of her boots clipping against the floor as she paced in frustration. And Kate slipped into the room; someone had to find out if Bernie was really okay.

 

Kate perched tensely on the plastic chair at Bernie's bedside, studying the surroundings of the confined space intently, and her sister who lay soundly sleeping. She glanced at the monitors, all steadily beating, and then the patient notes. They were all in Ukrainian, as suspected, and medic terms in her own language was not something she was overly fluent with, let alone unfamiliar, foreign cursive.

 

The only visible injury was a deep cut to her forehead, just below the hairline. Stitched neatly with sutures. She was breathing unaided, not a ventilator or tube in sight; Kate sighed in relief, that was _something_. A blanket and papery gown concealed the rest of the blonde's body, masking her other injuries. Still, there were plenty of wires and monitors attached, all so invasive.

 

Silence basked until Bernie began to stir a short while later. Her hand twitched. Eyelids slowly fluttering open and snapping shut, squinting as she tried to adjust to the contrasting bright, artificial lighting; her world was jet black whilst she snoozed.

 

"Bernie," soft and tentative, Kate's voice fractured the muted ambience, standing to her feet to enter her constricted line of vision.

 

The trauma surgeon's cocoa eyes amplified, breath hitching in the back of her throat for a split second, " _Kate_? What...what are you doing here?" It was a mumble, slurred with traces of sleep, and perplexed, as she tried to fixate her gaze.

 

"Investigating your radio silence to everyone. I phoned the hospital, they told me you'd been injured, hopped on the next flight out here. How are you?"

 

Bernie twitched her shoulders in a shrug, a wince scrunching across her facial features at the sudden movement to her aching limbs. "I've survived worse."

 

"What happened?"

 

The frown lines remained engraved across Bernie's forehead, pain still apparent even if she verbally denied existence. "Don't really remember...it..it'll come back to me eventually." Her eyes were shutting again, slumber looming nearby.

 

Kate nodded. She knew better than to pity. Her fingertips lightly grazed the back of Bernie's right hand, bruised from several insertions of needles into her veins. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips momentarily. "Serena's here."

 

There was a noticeable jitter on the heart monitor as Bernie's heart skipped a couple of beats, pulse racing. Her eyes were now open again, she was wide awake, the threat of sleep shaken off. Adrenaline. " _What_?!" She stuttered.

 

"I think...she still cares more than you would believe."

 

Bernie scoffed tartly before pausing, her voice a feeble murmur, "You know Serena? How much do you know?"

 

"Enough. A soldier's been under her care at the hospital." Kate shrugged vaguely, "I doubt she'd have flown out here last minute, dropped everything, if she didn't care. She's worried about you Bernie, we all are."

 

"I don't want to see her." Bernie twisted her head to the side, glaring towards the wall, evading eye contact. Stubborn and blunt. "You can go home, both of you."

 

"Bernie!"

 

The door to her room propelled open with force, and a flustered Serena marched in. Without invitation. Her hair was disheveled from the repeated times her fingers had raked through the dark locks nervously. The aflutter state stitched to her facial expression. She had dodged Nurse Oksana, and that wasn't the only thing she dodged.

 

"Get out!"

 

A plastic cup hurtled through the air, her it's target. It narrowly missed as she ducked. Through gritted teeth, Bernie had mustered all her strength and ignored her pain, stretching for the cup on the side before lobbing it, residues of water spilling onto the floor.

 

"You're awake. I had to see if you were okay, no one will tell me anything! I couldn't wait any longer! Bernie.."

 

"I said get out!" Bernie repeated thickly, her eyes scrunched shut as she buried her face into the pillow. She held her breath, muffling the strangled sob that threatened to escape. Tears prickled her inner eyes but she refused to let them fall. Blinking away the tiny teardrops before they could surface.

 

"Okay Serena, why don't you grab a coffee or something? I'll be five minutes." Kate's voice was cool and collected, spoken firmly yet with reassurance and hints of warmness.

 

Serena nodded, pirouetting on her heel and racing out, swiping fiercely at the tear on her cheek. Normally, she would have argued profusely. But she didn't want to inflict anymore distress on Bernie, her monitors already flashing dangerously near red zones due to stress, near enough to set off ablaze of medical bleepers.

 

But she'd been present long enough to get a decent glimpse of Bernie. The image stuck like glue. Her healthy, radiant skin was pale. Ghostly white. Dark rings gathered beneath her eyes that had lost their delightful dazzle. _Dull_. The sutures were so harsh against the raw skin, a purple-black bruise forming around the edge.

 

And she was in discomfort; and that was truly heartbreaking. Serena's features were creased woth her own sadness and worry, etched with her own form of pain of seeing her strong and brave Bernie like _that_. Wanting tell her everything would be okay, even though she wasn't entirely sure where the pair currently stood with their relationship.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thanks for reading and your commemts! Bernie and Serena finally start talking..and hopefully Bernie explains herself? Well, kind of, at least! hope you enjoy!

 

"Coffee?"

 

Kate's lips twitch into a slight smile as she slides into the chair opposite Serena, noting her left hand cupped around a mug of steaming beverage, the other hand picking at a savoury pastry.

 

The brunette shakes her head and glances upwards fleetingly, "Sweet tea, actually. Wasn't sure of the pronunciation of coffee. I don't think my nerves require any further encouragement either."

 

Even though she's seen for herself that Bernie's conscious and conversing - and still complete with that fiery, spirited streak that's _so_ Bernie - the uneasy feeling that twists her stomach into knots hadn't subsided.

 

Kate's hands rest on the table top, fingers clasped together. Background chatter subdues the silence, and she watches the wisps of steam twirl in ribbons towards Serena's face, and how the buttery croissant crumbles beneath her fingertips.

 

"Bernie says you can go and see her, I think you two need to talk."

 

Tilting her head, her gaze fixates, a delicate twinkle glossing her pupils. "We _do_ need to talk." Serena hummed in concur, raising the edge of the mug to her lips, inhaling the warmth of tea and aroma that tickled her nostrils.

 

Kate gives a sincere smile, extracting her laptop and a file from her bag. "I've got some work to do so I'll stay here, maybe even see if I can figure out to order a coffee."

 

With a slight husky chuckle, Serena smiles and regains her equilibrium, striding into a comfortable yet slightly apprehensive swift pace and navigates the corridors back to the trauma ward.

 

Serena pauses outside the door to the side room. Her fingers coil into fists, palms rather clammy, and uncurl again. Inhaling a shaky breath through parted lips, she curls her fingertips around the handle, relishing the cooling sensation of metal against hot skin. And she enters.

 

"Hey you..."

 

Bernie is now sat more upright in the bed, slumping heavily against the pillow. She's calmer. Her unwashed hair is darker than normal at the roots with grease, yet lighter towards the tips from the unusual autumn sun, matted with crusty blood, and now scraped back into a tousled little ponytail. A tiny blink of glimmer has returned to her deep eyes, finally engaging with the brunette.

 

She swallows, mouth suddenly dry and parched. "Serena.."

 

The distance closes between them, Serena tentatively approaching the bed. Silently grasping the plastic cup of water, she offers it to the trauma surgeon having detected the throaty croak that edges her voice.

 

"Thanks." Bernie sips at the water; the cool, hydrating sensation refreshing to her sandpaper like throat.

 

She watches quietly, her inner doctor instincts observing and studying intently. Curiosity piqued; she wants to know what has happened and sustained injuries and the ever important prognosis. Her eyebrow arcs candidly, attention drawn to the cannula inserted into her vein, yet the line is discarded to the floor, and the contents of the sachet near full.

 

"Isn't that drip supposed to be attached to that line?"

 

The cup clatters onto the side and Bernie shrugs her shoulders, the subtle movement jerking through her body. A grimace of instant regret creases her features and she sucks in a sharp breath, chewing on her bottom lip. "It's only morphine. I don't want it anymore...Makes me sleep, can't think or function properly with it.."

 

"Well, the doctors obviously think it _is_ necessary to prescribe. You're in some discomfort, Bernie. Your body needs to rest, especially after invasive surgery."

 

Silence graces momentarily. Bernie runs the tip of her tongue over her pursed lips, gesturing for Serena to take the seat at her side. She obliges, sitting awkwardly as she fiddles subconsciously with her hands on her lap.

 

The blonde turns her head towards Serena, pupils darting fretfully as she contemplates over words. She blows out a short breath, tone raw with sincere emotion. "Serena, I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry. For leaving. For throwing a cup at your head. For _everything_."

 

Dismissively, the vascular surgeon shakes her head, "This conversation can wait until you're better."

 

"No." Firm _and_ assertive. She swallows thickly. "I have to say this, you deserve the truth." It's nothing more than a whisper as her voice fades. Bernie nibbles nervously on her lower lip, fingertips twirling a loose thread from the sheet.

 

Inhale. Exhale. _Go_.

 

"I like you...I _more_ than like you. I know I've messed things up, I've _done_ the wrong things, _said_ the wrong things."

  

"Bernie-"

 

The interruption is ignored, Bernie continuing to articulate from the heart, low and muted, slurring with exposure. "-while I've been in Ukraine, there has been only one thing I can think about. And that's _you_ , Serena. It still is."

 

Serena's breath hitched at the back of her throat.

 

Bernie blinks. Stumbling over her words, sighing desperately as she looks down. "I wanted to commit to you, I really did."

 

"But you still left.." Serena murmurs sadly, though her gaze tender and soft. The hurt and pain that has been inflicted is currently numb; this was no place for an argument. Yet her anger has subsised, and she listens carefully.

 

The former army medic studies her friend, allowing herself the precious time to admire those soft, velvety lips that are free from lipgloss, her beautiful, alluring eyes that sparkle full of amber tinted diamonds, eyelashes long and curled with mascara that smudges at the corners. A few additional faint lines have appeared; probably with lack of sleep and the stresses of the past weeks.. _probably_ her fault. Skin so smooth and blemish free, completely natural. Sculpted cheeks and collar bones.

 

"We've become such close friends, and I've destroyed far too many friendships in my life. I got scared. I _still_ am scared, but perhaps for different reasons now." Quiet and sensitive, she pauses fleetingly, and her voice remains low and fragile, rippling with feelings that glitter up to her eyes. _A confession_. "I didn't want to destroy ours. It means to much to me...to risk it, I suppose. So, I did what I always do. I hit the self destruct button."

 

Serena's brow knits lightly, perplexity lacing her tone. "All the attempts at contact I made, you responded with radio silence? Not just to me, in fact-"

 

"I was rubbish, I know. I'm sorry." She sighs delicately, eyes flickering around the room while she blinks away the traces of tiny teardrops. "I tried..yet couldn't quite find the confidence to hit send." A husky, nervous chuckle follows.

 

"I was actually going to try again the evening that events took a turn for the worse, and I ended up a patient myself. I _couldn't_ reply after. I don't even know where my phone is. And I didn't want to, _couldn't_ , burden you with this. Because, I knew you'd come, and I don't want the pity...my pride and ego got in the way. I didn't want you to see _me_ like this."

 

And her voice cracks. Bernie tilts her gaze to the ceiling, closes her eyes to conceal the watery glaze that coats her pupils, concentrates on long, deep breaths. In and out. She's tired, no length of sleep seems to cure the exhaustion that fills her body.

 

"Oh Bernie." Serena extends her arm gracefully, the silky pad of her thumb strokes circular motions on the back of Bernie's hand, fingers gently interlinking. Little electric impulses at the touch, exploding to life.

 

"I don't want that horrible, empty, lonely feeling ever again. Serena, I feel guilty enough about this without feeling like your hands are now tied.."

 

"I've had more than enough time to reflect since you left, and I still feel the same as before. I want _you_ , Bernie. This doesn't have to change things." The brunette admits, reinforced with a firm and purposeful squeeze of the hand.

 

Bernie barks out a bitter laugh, "Doesn't it?!"

 

"Are you going to tell me what happened? I can see you took a blow to the head, but I can't help but think there is something more sincere underlying.." She narrows her gaze, features adopting a serious, and perhaps grim, expression.

 

"Stabbing. Severed my femoral nerve and nicked the artery. Pretty messy."

 

"And the prognosis?"

 

"I don't know, Serena." Honest _and_ raw. Bernie exhales a trembling breath, muffles a strangled sob of fear. She has naively been trying to ignore the medical science, convince herself that maybe tomorrow there will be more positive, hopeful signs of a good recovery.

 

Serena pushes herself forward with her heels, lips pressing fondly against Bernie's forehead. Sweet, feathery kisses. "It's going to be okay, I'm not going anywhere. Have you had an EMG yet? Or any PT?"

 

"No, the surgeon says the wound hasn't healed sufficiently as of yet." Bernie gradually lifts their entwined hands upwards towards her face, slow and steady as not to jolt her aching muscles. Her lips graze along Serena's knuckles, fuzzy and light, eyes fluttering shut. _Just resting._

 

The door opens and then closes with a harsh bang, both women glancing to perceive Nurse Oksana whirl in, equipped with a sterile dressing, fresh gown, towel and basin of warm water.

 

"Ms Wolfe's dressing needs changing." She announces with a rather ominous scowl aimed in Serena's direction, hinting that now is an appropriate time for her to vacate.

 

Serena bounds to her feet eagerly, all without loosening her grip on the blonde's hand. "I can do that."

 

"Serena-" Bernie clears her throat, frustrated and stressed at just how unable and limited she currently is. It's such a small, weak, vulnerable feeling. And she loathes it. "You don't need to do this."

 

"I want to." Serena smiles gently at Bernie then snaps her attention back to Oksana with a stern and matter-of-factly manner, "I am more than qualified to do so. Back in England, I am a consultant and surgeon who worked alongside Ms Wolfe."

 

The nurse wriggles her eyebrow disapprovingly, scrutinises the female more than necessary. "Very well, I will change the dressing and leave the rest to you."

 

The blanket is peeled back to just below Bernie's knees, the paper gown rustles as it is carefully rolled up to reveal the site of access. Oksana snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and sets to work.

 

"I warn you, Serena, it is not a pretty sight." Bernie murmurs, respiring another sigh as she sinks further back into the bed. Closes her eyes and braces herself for what's to come. A procedure she's become very familiar with over the past few days. Oksana certainly isn't the most careful or delicate nurse during practice, in fact, her nursing has been rather rough and brutal at times.

 

"Just like yourself, I've seen it all before."

 

As the old dressing is stripped away, Serena clutches Bernie's hand, the other fondly stroking her hair, she slyly peers towards the wound, and quickly processes the extent of the damage visible to eye. Subtle actions of comfort and soothing are offered throughout, all small mercies of touch as the trauma surgeon tries to conceal her winces and whimpers.

 

Frowning, Serena punctures the quietness with an exasperated bark, "No wonder it's not healing! That's infected! I want a doctor in here right now, to treat this properly and prescribe some antibiotics. Better still, I'll do it myself!"

 

Oksana scoffs, scowls and struts out. Serena cleans and sanitises the laceration as efficiently as possible, apologising repeatedly throughout, although her touch is so much more gentle and sensitive than the native nurse's. She just hopes that the infection isn't severe enough to warrant further surgery to flush out the marred flesh.

 

By the time Serena completes removing the gown, following with warm water and tender, lenient strokes of a towel, and the new gown is secured in place, Bernie is beginning to fade in and out of consciousness again. Her eyelids are heavy. The concoction of medical drugs still swirling deep within her veins.

 

She helps Bernie lay back against the bed, fixing the blanket back into position, and brushes a stray curl from her face.

 

"You're getting tired. I'm going to let you rest now. Just one thing before I go - do you know where the key to your flat is? And can you give me an address? I'll pop by and collect some toiletries and pyjamas for you."

 

"Coat pocket...17 Bankova Street...I'm sorry." It's mumbles, barely audible. And slumber finally immerses Bernie once again.

 

Locating the key is simple, and Serena allows herself just a few more moments with Bernie. Counts the rhythm of the steady rise and fall of her chest, matches her own breathing. At last, she is peaceful.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of a filler chapter, more Bernie and Serena in the next update! thanks for your nice comments.

The key was a tarnished bronze, enveloped safely in Serena's curled palm as they took cover from the sleety winds, beneath the veranda at the entrance of the block of flats. A snow-rain combination perspired in harsh spirals from the ominous, inky clouds that adorned the charcoal skies, beginning shortly after they departed the hospital. Heads bowed, they had made a speedy retreat through the vacant streets.

 

They quickly gain entry to the building and gratefully shelter from the wintery weather. A new build; tall, sleek and modern. Their heels clip against the stairs as they ascend. Third floor. And flat 17 is easy to locate.

 

Serena twisted the key and the door clicked unlock, and she flicked the light switch and flooded the flat with a subtle yellow glow.

 

It's small yet more than adequate, the layout purposely designed to utilise the limited space. An open plan kitchen come living and dining area with an ensuite bedroom filtering off; white wash walls add a brightening and fresh atmosphere.

 

With long, slender strides, Kate glided across the floor and gazed out of the floor-to-ceiling window that fronted the flat. It was a beautiful, elegant feature. And on a nice day or night you would be able to see for miles. But tonight the view was obstructed by the low-lying clouds and spitting sleet.

 

_The skyline would be littered with giant skyscrapers, growing higher and higher into the distance as the city develops and expands, slowly creating a flourishing picturesque scene. Some with curved roofs that roll into the distance, others peaking into sharp pyramids while some were flat. Shades of natural whites, greys and sands. At the foot of the buildings greenery blossoms and trees and fern thrives, orbiting into crunchy ambers and browns as seasons rotate._

 

_On a clear night, millions of tiny lemon-yellow lights, blurred in a bokeh effect would light up the skyline. Red beacon lights of cranes that stand even taller would smoulder into the velvety darkness, acting as markers for low flying aircrafts. Or under the burnt skies of rich sunsets, the landscape would glow orange._

 

Unable to see much of interest, Kate pirouetted on her heel and blinked behind her fringe as she observed the living area. Mugs of half drunk tea and coffee, accompanied with accumulating used plates and dishes, scattered the counter tops and tables. And empty beer bottles, and cheap whiskey and liqueur. Garments of clothing were also strewn across the back of the sofa and breakfast bar stool, and even the floor. _Messy_. Like most places civilian Bernie inhabited.

 

"Some things _never_ change." Kate mused, exhaling a husky chuckle as she started gathering the plates, congregating them on her overturned palm and wrist like a skilled waitress.

 

"Well I'm glad to see you are better house trained." Serena joked with a tight smile before awkwardly pursing her lips and shuffling on the spot. "Right, I..um, I'd better pack Bernie a bag."

 

The flat pretty much stands as it was leased, minus the mess. Fully furnished and operational. But there is a scarce amount of personal touches; nothing added to make it feel like home. A couple of framed photos lay in the bedroom, of her, Charlotte and Cameron. Captured over the years, and they're beaming. Those pictures travelled everywhere with the blonde, survived many a war zone.

 

And Serena learns that another photo has accompanied Bernie, accidentally discovered when she opened a drawer in search for clothes. Of AAU's joint clinical leads; they are laughing contagiously in Albies, shiraz in hand.

 

Kate hovered by the bedroom doorway subsequently to sufficiently tidying up the living and kitchen quarters so it appeared respectable. Serena had detected a small holdall in the bottom of the wardrobe, now chucked on the bed, and she folded clean pyjamas.

 

The blonde scanned the confined room diligently. Wardrobe, thick oak, matching chest of drawers, mirror, bedside table complete with lamp, double bed...her lips quirked into an infectious smile, golden hair catching in her eyelashes.

 

Propped between the pillows was an old steiff bear, wearing a khaki green military jacket. Warm caramel bristle fur that is ruffled, faded now to a pale ghostly gold with age. Black stitches for claws on the pads of the paws. It's slightly wiry and itchy to touch, not like the new teddy bears that are velvety soft and fluffy as they stroke skin.

 

The glass eyes are still jet black, although the right has sustained a minor crack, shattering the inner glass to shards, somewhere over the years. And the military jacket is worn and tatty, patchy from exposure to years of streaming sunlight, but the regiment badge is still very much intact. It's not surprising the teddy has been through the wars; it was made in 1965, after all. _Antique_.

 

Kate grasps the bear between her fingertips, fond memories filling her eyes. "I've got a bear similar to this; charcoal and wearing red. Didn't know Bern still had hers, or that she carried it everywhere. Mine's put away in storage."

 

Glancing upwards, the surgeon smiled and scrutinised the stuffed toy with her keen eye. "It looks old. 1950s or 60s?"

 

"1965, this one." She stated sincerely, "Mine's 1966. Our father returned home from tour with them after our births; he missed both our arrivals unfortunately. Serving in the Indo-Pakistani war when Bernie was born, and the Vietnam war when I arrived. These were our very first bears each."

 

Serena maintains her gentle smile and reaffixes her attention on the task in hand, pondering on whether to include a couple of jumpers for Bernie. "Maybe she likes to keep it as a souvenir or memory of him." She offers logically with a jerk of the shoulders, "were they close?"

 

"Very." A nod. "He was extremely approving of her career choice when she joined the RAMC. Combined our father's military heritage with our mother's doctoring choices. She got married, had children. Perfect daughter, really. They were never so supportive of my decision to study law. Until I joined the military police. But then I can't help but feel mother was saddened that both her daughter's were at risk with the army."

 

Traces of sorrow and misery hinted her words but Serena couldn't concentrate properly, her own memories and senses of lust and delight had been engulfed once again when she pulled a black knit jumper from its hanger.

 

A distinctive whiff tickled her nostrils when she wafted the item through the air in the process of folding. A blend of her own luscious perfume and Bernie's unique, heavenly scent. She sighs deeply and inhales.

 

This was the jumper Bernie sported when they attended the fancy Italian restaurant for a bite to eat following a gruelling shift. Delicious food, exquisite company and copious shiraz. Ingredients to generate a very enjoyable evening. Serena was wearing heels, ridiculous heels according to Ms Wolfe, after her sensible work shoes had been ruined by an incident with a projectile vomiting patient. And she blatantly refused to go to an upmarket venue in trainers, because they just didn't correspond with her outfit.

 

Things had gotten a little cosy at the end of that evening. Too much shiraz and heels - property of Elinor - were a disastrous combination. Bernie, ever the big macho army medic, had slung her arm around Serena's waist to support the stumbling individual and keep her safe. Totally professional. The brunette recalled the way the tips of golden hair had tickled her cheek when she had lulled her head on the trauma surgeon's shoulder as she giggled an anecdote.

 

Evidently, the jumper hadn't been washed. Perhaps it was a keepsake, a remembrance item of what they had. They shared. A comfort blanket as she drank cheap and nasty booze and cursed her cowardice. Frequently.

 

Serena tilted her gaze again and proffered a kind curl to her lips, "I'm sure your parents would be very proud of both of you, Kate."

 

The neatly arranged jumper was added to the duvet, an assortment of articles splayed across the white bedding. Would Bernie even require a jumper? Her lips puckered into a frown; did the hospital get colder on a night? A jumper would be necessary when she was finally discharged, she nodded.

 

Pyjama shorts and trousers. Two old yet clean RAMC t-shirt. Toiletries and towels. Grabs a book from the bedside stand. Double checking she had everything, she began gracefully bundling it all into the holdall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so I just figured out that I can reply to individual comments *facepalm* however for some reason it won't load and post, so again thank you so much to those who leave lovely little continuous comments. It's very nice and they make me smile!

 

It was precisely half past ten the next morning before Nurse Oksana grants Serena access to Bernie's side room, much to her exasperation. Claimed hospital rules and regulations that couldn't possibly be infringed for a single exception. Despite that they had arrived at the hospital shortly before nine - would have been even earlier had Serena been dictating.

 

For over an hour - a painstakingly long hour that dragged forever - they occupied a table in the hospital canteen. The very tips of Serena's nails drumming against the glossy table top, echoing a grating beat that tested the most patient nerves. And she stared into the air vacantly.

 

Kate tolerated the subtle yet shrill action for considerably longer than the average person, her own long, slender fingers tapping at the keys on her laptop as she produced her next work report. Eyes tilting upwards, reverting from the glaring screen, she arced her eyebrow and her fringe tickled her long eyelashes.

 

Quiet rummaging followed. The military detective extracted some money from her pocket, gliding the Ukrainian note across the smooth surface in a single motion and cleared her throat.

 

"Serena, how about you go order us a coffee each?"

 

Kate taught Serena the perfect pronunciation for the Ukrainian translation of a caffeine fix, requesting hers black with one sugar. Just how Bernie liked her coffee. The drinks passed time. But, equally, provided Serena with the time to think and reflect, ponder over the what ifs and uncertainties the future adhered. A hopeful prospect of what they could be; what they wanted to be. Yet hindered by an imminent prognosis for Bernie's injuries. Being a doctor, she knew the stakes.

 

One thing was definite: Serena was going to be there for Bernie through every step of her recovery. They would embark upon this together. Highs and lows. If the army medic consented.

 

A pleasant relief that she didn't even realise she needed waves over Serena at the report of the the blonde having a decent night, sleeping well and settled. Probably induced by the meds, and exhausted from yesterday's unforeseen visit.

 

Serena's features instantly brighten when she pushes open the door, lips twirling into an infectious smile that gives her cheeks a healthy glow and dazzles up to her deep eyes.

 

Bernie has transitioned from the bed into the bulky chair at the bedside, her bandaged leg elevated on a raised platform, still hooked to her lines and monitors with a hospital issue blanket draped over her.

 

Her eyes twinkle and she beams welcomingly, "Serena,"

 

Shifting from the bed to the chair had been somewhat more gruelling and harder than she anticipated. Highlighting precisely the lack of mobility and sensation she had with her lower limbs. It was an accomplishment, although minor in comparison to the journey ahead. She's determined, and liberation from that damn bed for even the shortest spell of time is a reward.

 

"Protein shake?" Serena nods towards the plastic cup clasped tightly in her hands, dropping the holdall at the foot of the bed.

 

Bernie wrinkles her nose as she swallows another sip, "A beer would be better." She pauses and thinks, then adds, "Or shiraz. Preferably by the bottle."

 

"That can be arranged when you are feeling a little better and home." Rich, hearty laughter soars from parted lips as she perches on the edge of the bed. Dancing in eardrums, a sound so intoxicating and addictive.

 

"That Italian restaurant with the extensive wine list again?" Head cocks to the side, strands of dark honey blonde fringe fluttering across her optimistic eyes.

 

"Deal."

 

Sealed with the gentle interlink of their hands, silky and soft skin of fingertips collide and squeeze tightly. Contact that sparks more impulses that tingle and shiver with silent desire. Alive with electric.

 

"But for now," Serena delves into the contents of her handbag, proffers a paper bag that contains a fresh sweet pastry purchased earlier that morning. A cinnamon swirl. "Maybe this may be slightly more appetising than protein supplement-"

 

Eagerly, Bernie extends her arm and makes a grab for the bag, only for it to be teasingly moved out of her limited reach. She recognises the white and red striped pattern, sourced from a local coffee shop she visited many a time throughout her stay.

 

"Though we both know how vital those shakes are in your recovery. Easiest way to fill your body with all the nutrients you require, promoting and aiding in healing and trying to preserve muscle." A matter-of-fact statement, she hands over the pastry when Bernie begrudgingly agrees.

 

"Yes Doctor." A sarcastic mock, "I'll drink the protein supplement later." And Bernie devours the cinnamon swirl without further comment.

 

Bernie shuffles stiffly in the chair, grimaces with a stifled gasp and scrunches her eyes closed as the movement produces as heightened, throbbing sear of pain, and quickly resettles into a marginally more comfier position.

 

The brunette bounces to her feet in chain reaction, preparing to signal for a doctor. "Do you need some more pain relief? In fact, I already know the answer to that-"

 

Pupils wide as her eyes snap open once more, lips parted, she plans to object but Serena cuts her off with a clipped and stern manner. Fingers curl around the soft edge of the blanket and she listens.

 

"Ask for the meds, Bernie. No one is going to think any less of you or that you're weak. Drop the big macho façade just this once! You don't _have_ to be strong all the time. Struggling on will only prolong your recuperation and add to the strain on your body."

 

The words are purposely delivered with a solemn and harsh lace, yet her expression is gentle and imploring. Best interests are at heart. Bernie Wolfe _is_ stubborn. And sometimes a sharp note is required to make her see sense.

 

It's a blunt and constant burning sensation, mixing with a numb feeling, that floods her injured leg. Admittedly, becoming even more apparent and unbearable as the minimal drugs start to dilute and wear thin. It is always present, only seemingly manageable with targeted medication that dulls the smarting noticeably.

 

Bernie dips her head and counters with a murmur, "The pain meds they prescribe are too heavy, I want to be somewhat coherent and lucid! To be able to think straight."

 

"Thinking is overrated." Serena scoffs and folds her arms across her chest, "Then you need to communicate with the doctors so they can find a happy medium. A different combination of drugs perhaps."

 

"Okay." Meek and hush, the blonde reluctantly agrees.

 

A doctor administers a direct shot of pain relief, dispensing the contents of a syringe into the cannula and allows the generous dose to begin circulating Bernie's blood stream. He checks the monitors and observations while he's present, then turns and leaves.

 

Bernie eventually looks up and engages eye contact with Serena. Sober and grim. Sucking in a sharp inhalation of air, a naked fear has immersed her vulnerable orbs, and with a vigilant study, they are dark and scared. She talks faintly, shakily, and the terror swallows her demeanour. The confident and collected mask is shattered, replaced with the strangling grip of anxiety and despair.

 

"I had an EMC and MRI this morning..."

 

Serena nods intently. The procedures display a clear and advanced insight to the extent of nerve and muscle damage. Deliver the dreaded prognosis. Confirm the way forward; a best case scenario. She swallows thickly, and her breath hitches. "And the results?"

 

"Still waiting on them." Sighing, Bernie flops her head back heavily against the chair, chews tensely on her bottom lip. Her voice slurs, so many negative emotions prompt and bubbling to the surface through a fracture in her vocal cords. A tiny, forlorn teardrop rolls down her cheek.

 

"Serena, I can't feel anything. It's not just my leg. _Anything_."

 

With a delicate swipe of the soft pad of Serena's thumb, the glossy tear vanishes. Eyes brim with sympathy and sorrow. They both know the medical science, but sometimes that just makes the entire thing worse.

 

"We both know that loss of sensation in surrounding area is a side effect from nerve damage and nerve repair surgery. It's still _very_ early days. With the correct treatment, sensation can return. You have to be patient and wait. As cliché as it is: time is the only healer in this instance."

 

Bernie shakes her head, a loose curl falls from the restraint of the hair band with the action. "You don't have to stay, Serena."

 

"Don't you dare push me away again, Berenice Wolfe. I am here for the long run. Whatever the outcome, we'll face it together. I've fallen in love with you, I can't just go."

 

Her index finger gently angles the blonde's chin upwards with tentative pressure. A smile of guarantee and promise presses her lips, and Bernie allows herself to appreciate how her amber eyes are constructed from millions of freshly polished diamonds.

 

"You deserve to enter a relationship with someone who is fully functional in _all_ aspects."

 

Bernie whispers , and her eyes are opaque and dark, darting fretfully, eyebrows arching momentarily.

 

"Intimacy comes in many forms. I want you, no one else." Serena promises.

 

And now they are close, _really_ close. The space between them terminates, their fingers entwined firmly. Bernie can smell the traces of coffee on the brunette's breath, smothering and intoxicating, fusionend with a tint of chocolate, and maybe a whiff of last night's shiraz.

 

Their lips touched. Flush and luscious. For a very brief moment. Then, Bernie hastily turns her head away and breaks the contact, prompting a disgruntled huff from Serena.

 

"Bernie?" She frowns.

 

"There's someone at the door!" A low hiss, cautious eyes fixate on the figure she can perceive through the small glass panel. "Ukraine hasn't quite moved forwards with the times as much as the UK in regards to LGBT rights. Not everyone is so accepting here."

 

Serena nodds her cognitions, a helpless laugh exhaling as they realise Kate is the mystery person who slips through the doors. Bernie chuckles in harmony, coughs to clear her throat.

 

The detective wiggles her eyebrows suspiciously, smirking wryly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything.."

 

"No, of course not!" Bernie gives a tight smile, happy to be graced with more coherent company, and swiftly untangles her fingers free from Serena's and clasps her own hands together on her lap.

 

Thick, blonde curls cascade at her prominent jaw line as Kate pads across the confined yet equipped side room, long and poised strides with hands tucked in the pocket of her smart jeans.

 

The cool, composed nature of the woman emits into the aura, her voice husked and simple. "Please, don't pull apart on my account."

 

"Sorry.."

 

Breathing out a nervous half-laugh, Bernie immediately permits her knuckles to caress against the velvety palm of Serena's hand, until their long fingers entwine again and they both welcome the resumed touch.

 

"Didn't know what your personal thoughts on this were exactly-" A pause.

 

Bernie's frame is awkward, lips twitching, and she tilts her head to one side. Her other hand gracelessly raises, stroking the nape of her neck until she curses and winces as the needle inserted into her vein tangles in her hair.

 

"-you never said anything specifically when it all came out about the affair..with _her_. Didn't have to, to be honest. You were disappointed probably - understandably - I cheated. What with our parents extremely religious and old fashioned upbringing and beliefs-"

 

Kate intersects the rambling, saves her sister from the difficulty of trying to express her assumptions on the controversial matter of their history. She smiles kindly, glances towards Serena who proffers an encouraging nod.

 

"I don't mind. All I want is for you to be happy."

 

Now the military detective is mirroring an evidential sibling inherited trait: short nails twist into the hair at the back of her neck. Awkwardly and contemplatively. And her lips flutter nervously until she clears her throat and inhales.

 

"In fact, we have even more in common than you think.."

 

Serena grins dryly and barks out a humorous giggle - earns puckered brows and narrowed gazes from the Wolfe sisters. Seconds whirl by and she relocates poise.

 

"It baffles me how two such bright and intelligent women appear to be so blind to this mutual. Your taste in coffee, for example, isn't the only wonderful attribute you share."

Lips compressed, Kate ruffles a hand through her curls and a melancholy and wretched glint invades and blurs the illuminating dazzle of her rich eyes. A reminiscence of misery back to her adolescent years that she can never forgot. _Scars_.

 

"Remember when I was at uni studying law with my partner? Then we both applied for the same job with a lawyer firm?"

 

"Jamie." Bernie quickly recalls, brain racking back to 1987 and the couple of years running up to that summer. "Jamie got hired and you didn't."

 

"Mm," Kate hums, "Jamie was a girl. And I loved her very much. We both got offered jobs but I had to decline because she dumped me, and I couldn't tolerate the sight of her when what we had crashed and burned. Looking back now: I can see how manipulating she was, how unhealthy our love was. That's why I made the spontaneous decision and joined the military police."

 

She blows out a breath, and quick, structured gestures follow and the siblings are enveloped tentatively in one another's muscular arms. The trauma surgeon's features adopt amiable surprise, splattered with sadness at the heartbreak Kate has unfortunately endured. _Alone_.

 

"Why didn't you tell me!" A stubborn exclamation.

 

"For the same reasons you never confined in me! Scared of what you'd think. And you were so caught up with the messy divorce that there was never an appropriate time."

 

"Met anyone else?" Bernie's eyes glitter mischievously.

 

"No." A slight, apprehensive intake of air. "I think she gave me enough heartache to last a lifetime. Threw myself into my career, stayed alone, never really looked for anyone else." Simple.

 

Idle chat between the sisters reverberates the atmosphere effortlessly, conceals the steady hums of the monitors attached to the trauma surgeon. They talk and beam, radiating in the embrace of each other's company.

 

Until a clipped tap at the door halts the conversation, and a medical specialist enters the room. Small, petite and brunette, sporting thick rimmed specs. When she speaks, they learn that she is in fact English.

 

"Hello, I'm Osgood." The female's smile bubbles, personality peppy. "I've been assigned as your physical therapist, Ms Wolfe. And I have your EMC and MRI results.."

 

And Serena smirks inwardly as she perceives Kate's steady gaze drift up and down, hovering over the newly introduced professional for a fleeting moment. Then her expression transfixes back to a stoic stone, bracing for a potentially life-changing prognosis deciphered from the procedures.


	9. Chapter 9

  
Osgood announces that the nerve and muscle damage, although extensive, was not as bad and severe as initially expected. Doctors hoped for a decent series of mobility, satisfactory enough for Bernie to one day return to performing surgical procedures, if not fully functional, with the correct care.

 

The physiotherapist was very professional; meticulous and efficient in establishing a comprehensive review of range of motion and assessed feeling and sensation in the marred limb. A PT plan then thoroughly established, completed with a first session of gentle stretches and massage, that would be repeated daily and hopefully advanced as sensation returned and mobility improved. At the end of the following week, roughly eight days time, they anticipated the leg would be healed sufficiently for Bernie to stand on her own two feet again, permitted for more enhanced exercises.

 

Primary massages were aimed at preventing tight scar forming around the nerves and limit further muscle atrophy. And help with the initial steps to regaining sensation and movement.

 

Though reality densely struck for Bernie when she could only feel the workout on her unaffected leg. The other limb currently remained frustratingly numb, with a dull burning feeling, and failed to obey sensory-motor requests. _Lifeless_. Despite the positive prognosis, it was still terrifying, and she had hoped for _something_. Just the tiniest manoeuvre, a flicker of real courage, like the wiggle of her toes.

 

By the finish of the session, she was sweated and tired, opting to retire back to bed and rest.

 

She had stupidly pretended and internally lectured herself that the reason she couldn't feel any of the tests they conducted was simply because she was dosed up heavily on pain meds. Flesh probed and prodded, somewhat invasively. Yet nothing. She was an intelligent doctor, she knew the science. With a sharp scold, she had to stop the cowardice, the lies, the fiction; and now it was time to _believe_.

 

Ultimately, time played the dominant healer. First, to regain at least some feeling and movement to her injured limb. Then, slowly over a long period of time, muscle and strength would have to be rebuilt, and she practically had to learn to walk again. It would be a long and challenging three months ahead, minimal. And only time would tell an exact range of motion Bernie would recover, dictated by nerve regenerations.

 

Specialist physio treatment and a strict regime of exercises would be sure to help recuperation, and if followed correctly, guaranteed to, in the end, offer the best possible outcome. Although, it was too early to confirm if there would be prolonged numbness to particular areas, or if smooth movement would be hampered by a limp.

 

Later that afternoon, subsequently to politely being instructed to offer privacy for the physical therapy, Serena arrives through the mechanised door into the side room. The blonde has receded to bed, though stiffly propped up by an abundance of fluffy pillows and wide awake. With a plastic cup grasped between her fingertips; protein supplement, as promised.

 

Bernie's expression curls into a brightened smile at the sight of a welcomed visitor, despite the discomfort that visibly contorta deeply into the fine lines of her features. "Serena. My final intellectual conversation of the day, no doubt.."

 

"I'm glad to see you are following doctors orders." A husky hum as she acknowledges the shake with a simple gesture and that she is resting.

 

She huffs, dark cocoa eyes rolling - Serena only notices because the silky pads of her fingertips have brushed away the honey blonde strands of her long fringe.

 

Her hair has been washed, still a little damp yet bounced back to life with volumes of thick, messy curls. They're soft again, cascading like small waves of translucent gold. The hospital issue gown has been exchanged for her own pyjama shorts and RAMC t-shirt.

 

And the distinctive whiff of raspberries and vanilla, and a scent that was uniquely Bernie tickled Serena's nostril when she inhales deeply. The soap she recalled packing amongst essentials, and secretly relished the heavenly smell of for a little _too_ long behind the confined walls of the apartment ensuite..

 

Refreshing and comforting.

 

"It's so boring and tedious just laying here. Now that I'm more conscious...these four plain walls are becoming rather suffocating as I stare at them day in, day out. I have nothing fruitful to occupy me." Bernie grumbles, exhaling a dismal sigh, and it it clear that hints of agitation are present.

 

Retrieving the holdall from the cupboard at the bedside, the brunette extracts a book and hairbrush.

 

"I found this on your bedside at the flat. By no means does it even compete with the intensity and profitable practicalities of trauma surgery...but it's something."

 

The book is deposited on top of the blankets at her side, in perfect reach for no strain or strenuous movement. Serena clutches at the brush and wordlessly teases it ever so gently through her locks. She guesses correctly that Bernie towel dried her hair, raked her skilful fingers through it before scrunching it back into curls.

 

"How did the PT go?" She perceives the tiniest jerk of Bernie's shoulders and how she evades eye contact, dipping her head to focus on the blanket, and then arcs her eyebrow sincerely and implores subtly. "Truthfully Bernie."

 

Lips pursed, Bernie contemplates and blows out a long breath and raises her tentative gaze. "It was a bit rough, nothing I couldn't handle. I'm just impatient and loathing recuperation..." A fleeting pause. "Osgood's good, very good actually. And an interesting individual. She's British, and also on a secondment here."

 

Serena hums quietly, curious, and prompts for her to continue articulating.

 

"Turns out she's from Holby too. Was posted at St James for a long stint prior to Ukraine. Wants to return back home and to find a permanent position, maybe even at the City itself if an appropriate role is available. She's due to fly back in a couple of weeks and I hope to be discharged from this blasted place by then as well. Back in Holby, I intend to keep her as my physical therapist whichever hospital she's posted to."

 

"Makes sense. One person dedicated to your care should prove a lot more efficient and effective in monitoring progress and noticing the subtlest of changes." Concurred with a steady nod, Serena placed the hairbrush back in the holdall and perched in the chair, instinctively reaching to interlace their hands.

 

"Apparently, she's honoured of my approval of her work. Heard a lot about me, she reckons." Bernie's eyebrows momentarily wiggled and disappeared up towards her hairline.

 

"Well, as one of our country's best front line surgeons, your reputation does proceed you, _Major_. High praises indeed." There's a light teasing manner edging Serena's words, and the medic flashed a dry grin in her direction.

 

"She also thinks we should all form a club entitled _'the unfortunate named souls'_ \- after all, me with Berenice Griselda, my sister with Drusilla. You with Wendy as your middle name. And Osgood's called Petronella."

 

With glances exchanged swiftly, they both ruptured into hearty giggles. Rich, smokey laughter. Glittering up to their dark eyes, creasing at the corners of grinning lips. Reminding them of a sense of the real word, the similar humour they shared before.

 

Serena had missed the lusty roar yet genuineness of Bernie's honking goose guffaw that burned through the ambience, temporarily masking the constant shrill of monitoring machines.

 

And Bernie appreciated again how Serena's precisely applied mascara smudged at the outer corner of her right eye every time she laughed with such energy, the jet black substance mixing with the moisture that brimmed in her soulful orbs. Then, when she observed in the mirror later, she would curse and undoubtedly make the smear a whole lot worse when she dabbed with a tissue.

 

"Speaking of Osgood..." The brunette's regained composure, though remnants of laughter still lace her expression. An infectious beam, pearly-white teeth displayed broadly. "I think your sister likes her."

 

Bernie barks out a splutter, nearly chokes on the mouthful of protein supplement and slopes her head to one side, brows domed and shimmying, "Really?!" The white's of her eyes expansive and thick, she blinks. Stunned and bewildered.

 

"Yeah. The way she looked at her when she first walked through the door early. Clearly checking her out." Forthright and earnest. Serena's face is straight and deadly serious, but her amber pupils twinkle fiercely and the blonde's beautiful, uncontrollable guffaw starts again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the comments as always! I can't promise that there aren't any more cliffhangers coming up, perhaps even more mean that the last one...and I'm sure we will see more of Kate and Osgood ;)
> 
> I'm not a doctor or nurse, so I apologise in advice if the medical stuff isn't accurate. I tried to do some research to make it as realistic as possible - but please feel free to correct any awful awful mistakes (because I have no doubt that there will be some). I didn't want to bombard you with medical jargon neither skim over everything so I hope the balance is okay.


	10. Chapter 10

 

Bernie's settled in the comfy chair with her impaired leg hoisted onto a raised platform again, intently captivated by printed words and sentences brimming thick pages that assembled a hearty book. A pair of specs are securely situated on the bridge of her nose, the curved tip of the arms tangled in honey blonde curls. Generous, thick rims in a deep tortoise-shell brown.

 

Serena allows herself a quiet moment to unnoticeably stare and admire through the small glass panel in the door. _What wonderful beauty her eyes are blessed with the privilege of witnessing._ It's the first time ever she's espied the glasses, quickly establishes that they are rather hot _and_ sexy on Bernie.

 

Breezing in through the door, equipped with a wheelchair jostling in front of her, she offers a gracious smile complete with warm greeting. "Good morning, Bernie."

 

The mood instantly uplifts with a heady spirit. Bernie snaps the book closed - marking the page first with a skilful fold of the corner, of course - smoothly pushes the glasses through her tousled hair so they're perched expertly on top of her head, and smiles. A genuine smile, meaningful eyes shimmering with delight. The apples of her cheeks are flushed a rosy pink, long fingers subconsciously fiddling with the edge of her specs that have become cottered in her locks.

 

"Hello you. What's all this?" She gestures vaguely to the wheelchair, orbs narrowing curiously as she presses her lips together tightly.

 

"All cleared with your doctors, don't worry." Serena states airily, "Thought the change of scenery would do you good. You must be climbing the walls in here..metaphorically, of course, sorry-"

 

With a steady shake of her head, she dismisses the apology, "Don't worry. I'd like that very much. Hard to know whether it's even day or night in here with that trifling excuse of a window."

 

"And we'll get some food in you while we're at it." Eyeing the tray of food, untouched, the vascular surgeon arced her neatly groomed eyebrow.

 

"I have very good reasons _not_ to eat that. Just look at it." Her nose wrinkles in disgust with a sharp glare: she adds a condolence, "I did have a protein shake instead."

 

"Mm, doesn't look the most appetising, I have to agree..." Serena hums in concur, already sieving through the contents of the holdall for some suitable, warm clothes for Bernie, asking about how PT session that morning as she goes.

 

The black jumper is extracted from the bag; the very garment that Serena had internally debated whether was actually necessary to pack back at the apartment. And now it had purpose. The unique, glorious blend of their scents still lingering deep within the tightly knit threads of wool.

 

With the book shifted onto the solid wood of the bedside cabinet, Serena assists with freeing the glasses from the knotted mesh of golden hair that had somehow magically swathed and twirled into tousles around the frame. One of those frustrating traits of life that just happens for no reason with no effort. And she compliments them, cordially announcing how she's never seen them before.

 

"No one _wants_ reminding that they're the wrong side of fifty." Bernie exhales and darts a sideways glare in the brunette's direction, then clears her throat. Her cheeks are still pinky, the tips of her ears blushed a corresponding shade. "Longsighted. Contact lenses are a grand invention. I'm fine in theatre, even with hospital admin...I swear publisher's have just considerably shrunk the text size in books!"

 

Serena muses and concludes, "They must be thinking of the trees.." She helps Bernie into the cosy jumper and jogging bottoms that fit comfortably over the bulky padding of dressings. Then adds a coat and fluffy scarf for good luck, because she doesn't want the blonde to catch a cold - Ukraine winter has arrived early, after all.

 

Transitioned into the mobile chair, Serena cautiously abolishes them from the small confines of the room and navigates through the corridors. They stop briefly at the hospital cafe, the vascular surgeon wiggling her eyebrows with a wry wink as they notice Kate has purchased Osgood a coffee and now they're chatting idly.

 

Bernie orders two coffees and sensibly elects herself out a fruit pot complete with granola and yoghurt. She eyes the sweet danishes, but Serena informs her that some fresh fruit would be much more sufficient in fuelling her body with nutrients and boosting recuperation. Wisely decides not to push her luck and is thankful for an inject of caffeine that she didn't know she even craved.

 

The trauma surgeon pays, rather surprised her purse, without a single penny missing, is still safely tucked away in her coat pocket following the incident. Confirming it wasn't a mugging, though she already knows the nature was a personal attack. The cigarettes and lighter are even still present, albeit the box rather crumpled.

 

Stepping outside, bitter wisps of harsh wind swirling around them instantly. Bernie shivers, the spiralling breeze smothering at her skin, dancing through her golden locks - it's a stark contrast to the heated hospital, yet it's not considered unpleasant. And now her cheeks and nose are rosy with the cold, rather than peachy from heat. She welcomes the fresh air and repeatedly breathes in deeply, filling her longs with clean oxygen. Savours the purity of the open skies.

 

They venture towards the hospital gardens, settle in a secluded corner. It's quiet and peaceful. The bustle and clamour of the functioning hospital fades into the distance. Occasionally, a blare of a siren travels through the wind and echoes into the surroundings. In the summer, it would be a flourish of blossoming flora in bright, vibrant shades and bold green, neatly trimmed grass with trees blooming in all their splendid glory.

 

"Do you remember what happened, Bernie? Who did this to you? I hope the police have caught and charged the bastard. They could have-" Serena shakes her head dismally, breath hitched apprehensively at just the thought of potential outcomes if the weapon that had inflicted the leg injuries had contacted with a different body part.

 

Pursing her lips, Bernie basks the silence, excluding the feeble chirp of a bird or the scurry of a squirrel hurrying to collect the last scarce nuts from the hard ground in preparation for hibernating. She inhales the succulent wafts of coffee, ribbons of steam curling from the indentation of the lid, and swallows a sip.

 

With a more-confident-than-she-feels shake of her head, throat cleared, she states with an air of finality, "I'm not pressing charges." She fixates her steady gaze ahead on the squirrel now clawing his way up a tree, cheeks brimming with scavenged food.

 

"What?! They could have _killed_ you!" Serena exclaims crisply, anger burning in her onyx eyes. Immediately regrets the fierceness of her tone as the blonde weakly flinches.

 

Bernie still stares in the horizon, expression blank and tricky to interpret, "Not up for debate. They would finish me off properly next time." She sinks further into the wheelchair, beneath the layers of blankets.

 

The vascular surgeon huffs in frustration but softens her manner and gaze because Bernie likes to stick to the rules, she likes justice no matter how ruthless. And, she thinks, she has never seen Bernie appear so small, timid, and ambivalent. Scrutinising, there are gleams of vulnerable fear deep within those lost eyes, and minute flutters of hostile rage.

 

"What if they do this to someone else?"

 

"They won't." Sharp certainty. "Rest assured, I was their intended target."

 

Serena frowns bewilderedly, slowly extends her arm and clasps her fingertips over Bernie's hand, which she now learns is trembling ever so slightly, and squeezes. "So you _do_ know who did this. I don't quite understand, Bernie. I'm sorry, but can you elaborate?"

 

The coffee is deposited onto the bench side, and rooting in her jacket pocket, the blonde digs out the packet of cigarettes and lighter. Skilfully, she flips the box open and compresses her lips around a single roll up, removes it and flicks at her lighter until a roaring flame ignites the tip.

 

"Been a rough couple of months." Bernie declares sincerely upon the disapproving tilt of the head and raised eyebrows she receives from the brunette - she had quit, would quit again; right now, she was taking a break.

 

Blowing out a white cloud of smoke, she watches it evaporate up into the air and relishes the craved effect of nicotine for the first time in a week. She sighs and closes her eyes. Tries to relax. The fag definitely helps to calm her tension, along with the subtle strokes of Serena's silky fingers, and she takes another drag and puffs out again.

 

She starts at the beginning of that fateful day, hopes to clarify any outstanding queries and confusion. Bernie sucks in a sharp breath and articulates.

 

"There was a RTC emergency with some Ukrainian bigwig involved. He became my patient. Arrived at the trauma unit unconscious and with a low pulse - suspected abdo bleed from the word go. But we went through the motions, stabilised him, ordered a CT, ticked the boxes for all required tests, no abnormalities...an abdominal ultrasound confirmed free fluid and we headed to theatre for an exploratory laparotomy."

 

Bernie pauses for breath and raises her hand with the cigarette propped neatly between her fingers to her lips once more. Turns her head to finally engage with Serena who gives an imploring nod and brushes her long fringe from her eyes with the graze of her fingertips. Her eyes are glittered with concern and she listens attentively.

 

"The spleen was the cause of the bleed, managed to save it and fix the damage. BP was rising nicely and everything else looked tip top so we closed up. And as I was just finishing the last stitches he crashed, went into VF and cardiac arrest. It happened so quickly, and we couldn't successfully resuscitate him. I don't know what went wrong, what I missed...it was standard stuff, I've completed the procedure hundreds of times.."

 

"Sometimes these things just happen...and there's nothing else we can do." Serena offers gentle condolences, envelopes her arm snuggly around Bernie's shoulders and cherishes how feathery soft those blonde curls are against her cheek.

 

"The family didn't take it well. Evidently held me accountable, needless to say they came for their revenge that very night. It was late when my shift ended, I took the back route home intending to stop off at the only late opening off licence for a bottle of whiskey - quite a regular occurrence because I felt so guilty about what I'd done to you and I missed you so fucking much, Serena."

 

A single teardrop formed and delicately tumbled down her cheek, swiped away silently by the pad of Serena's velvety thumb. The army medic's voice wavered and she inhaled a shaky breath, fingers curling into fists now the tiny cigarette end had fizzled out and fluttered to the cold ground.

 

"Next thing I'm being yanked into an alleyway gagged. The whiskey smashed to the floor. I don't understand much of what they're saying. Speaking too quick and complexly for me to follow. Plenty of Ukrainian swear words though; all I understood, really. It was pitch black, didn't realise they were armed. Excruciating pain seared through my leg and my knees buckled, cut my head on a shard of glass from the broken bottle of spirit. I've never felt such an intense, burning pain...I cried out for help and then everything went black. That's all I remember."

 

Bernie dips her head, suddenly fuelled with bitter anger at the fact they had purposely used violence as revenge, for the very first time. Though she wasn't sullen enough to confess to the police, and Serena comprehends that trying to persuade Bernie would only provoke further rage and distress. Her jaw clenches, cheekbones even more prominent.

 

Serena comforts in the form of many shoulder squeezes and rubs, and promises, "We are taking you home as soon as you are fit to fly. And we will never have to return here again."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a very long time since I've posted anything on here but with serena campbell finally returning next week and the little snippets of information emerging I've been reinspired and want to get back into writing! I found 3 incomplete chapters awaiting this fic and decided to start polishing them up ready to post. This chapter takes us back to earlier in bernie's life, something that was mentioned in an earlier chapter that I've expanded on and it basically started as a one shot idea that I decided to adapt. It probably won't be everyone's cup of tea though.
> 
> Just a couple of points to highlight from my research: in the uk, homosexuality was legalised in 1967 - still considered illegal for under 21s due to age of consent act, which was later reduced to 18 in 1994.
> 
> I hope you like this next part!

** Chapter 11 **

It becomes a daily occurrence, their trips out into the peaceful hospital gardens. Serena nestles Bernie into thick, warm layers of jumpers and scarves, assists her into the wheelchair and pushes her outdoors. It's something the blonde starts to look forward to every day; a twinkle of light into her darkest hours.

 

They always stop at the cafe on the way, purchasing teas and pastries - Serena has promised the nurses not to provide Bernie with coffee, the caffeine makes her even more stubborn and headstrong than usual, and with no proficient method to channel her energy, Ms Wolfe can be quite a handful once Serena has been shimmied out.

 

Visiting hours still exists, Nurse Oskana scolds.

 

Today, they pause in the quiet corridors of the hospital when Serena's phone rings. Kate has flown back to the UK, required on important military police business, but promised to maintain contact and visit when she gets the chance. Bernie learns that the vascular surgeon is talking to Fletch, though unable to grasp the content of the conversation.

 

"Just trust your instincts Fletch. If you are really desperate than speak to Morven, she'll be more than happy to assist."

 

"Yes, that's fine. You too. Thanks, Fletch."

 

Bernie purses her lips and fiddles with the tassels of her scarf, swallows thickly. A distinctive edge of poignancy clips at her words and she braces herself. "I guess you'll need to be getting back, AAU will be missing you. I'll be fine-"

 

"Not quite." Serena interrupts, smile warm and hearty, reflecting into her silky voice. "I'm sure they probably are missing me, _missing us_. But they'll cope. I've cleared compassionate leave with Hanssen. He conveys the impression that he wants his best trauma surgeon back on her feet, whatever it takes. Sends his wishes."

 

Her lips flutter into a small, nervous smile, head dipped slightly with copious honey blonde curls cascading to mask her face. "That's kind of him. Are you still staying at that hotel?"

 

Serena nods, purrs her verification.

 

"It must be costing you a small fortune!" Bernie chides with the shake of her head, speaks in a deadly serious manner that affirms she is not taking no for an answer. "Please, stay in my flat. The lease isn't up yet, best utilise what's been paid for. The landlady is very accommodating."

 

Serena agrees and they procure their hot beverages and sweet danishes before reaching their destination of the hospital gardens.

 

The hospital gardens are where some of their deepest chats evolve. It's so quiet and refreshing, the tranquil tunes of singing birds glides through the frozen air. Bernie likes it.

 

Serena's rich and husky voice is melodious and permeates the air while they munch at their pan au chocolates and drain their teas. She's reciting an anecdote from her adolescent about her first lover, a professional footballer. Bernie listens intently, isn't entirely sure how the topic came about; she's impressed, and laughs along.

 

And from somewhere deep within, Bernie brims with a confidence and poise she hasn't felt in a long long while. Inhales a concentrated breath, strikes up a cigarettes and shuffles to look at Serena. Feels she needs to reciprocate, although knows Serena isn't trying to pry information about her youth from her.

 

"I haven't told anyone this before, I've tried not to think about it, in all honesty. Marcus wasn't my first love, despite what people may think. When I was nineteen, there was a woman. _Liz_."

 

It's been years since Bernie has said that name out loud. Still rolls off the tip of tongue mellowly, yet it is definitely silvered with bitterness.

 

 

_**1984 - Bernie aged 19** _

_**The summer: first year of med school complete.** _

 

_Her eye makeup is dark, eyeliner smudged. Ankle boots pound against the rain-kissed pavements, a refreshing drizzle subsequent to the blistering sun of the day. And as she turns the final corner and enters the sidewalk, the powerful beat of chart music echoes and amplifies with every step, a hint of the deep red strobe lighting sidling from the club doors and shimmering into the dusk._

 

_Golden hair splays at her jawline in gentle, natural curls that are even wilder than normal as a result of the light rain. She rakes slender fingers through the locks repeatedly and winces, tries and fails to tame, wishes she had used a hairbrush earlier to tease out the tangles. Still looks so Bernie, still divine._

 

_The club is tucked away, located down an alley of the bright city's suburb back streets. Hidden from attention, away from unwanted attention and trouble. Sucking in a breath, she straightens her leather jacket and her skinny jean clad legs stride into the heart of the disco atmosphere._

 

_It's dark and rather crammed; suddenly Bernie no longer feels alone with how she feels within herself. Surprised at how many people in the region are just like her._

 

_The rich red and satin pink lights flash and spin through the club, thrashing and radiating from the multiple mirrors adorning the walls, and cast a glowing aura. A bar is stationed against the far wall, clusters of people chugging and quenching. The countertop is made of black granite and tempered glass, shiny and spotless. Framed with matching shelves, red fairy lights twinkling beneath, lodging the abundances of alcohol._

 

_A dance floor takes prime spot in the centre of the club, checkered squares in alternating ruby reds and velvet blacks. Chairs and tables maintain the theme, arranged into little booths, decorate the edges, and they're all occupied and brimming with customers, masking the DJ set at the back._

 

_Bernie breathes in; smoke, drink, sweat and perfumes all blended. And she stalks to the bar, pushes a couple of coins across the gleaming surface and orders a whiskey. Downs the scotch and watches intently from behind her long fringe._

 

_Clutches of party goers bop and shimmy to the latest dance records blaring from the speakers. The heat is rising in the club, with well over an hour before numbers climax and density peaks. Being in the centre of the dancing crowd would once have been a hellish perception; strangers and touch colliding as they sway and boogie against one another. Yet, it oddly appears inviting. The vibes feel different._

 

_To the right, several duos are assembled. Some already in established relationships, enjoying delicious cocktails and exquisite intimacy. Others have clearly just met, relishing those very first fine moment of hooking up, smooching. While some are flirting and chatting up their chosen ones, tastefully selected from the crowds._

 

_"Two of whatever this one's drinking."_

 

_Bernie twitches slightly with a start, blinks as she fixates her concentration, realises that the gesture is aimed directly at her. She parts her lips to speak, but the words falter and she simply has lost the ability to form a coherent sentence and awkwardly stares with a hungry, scrutinising gaze._

 

_Honey rich and velvet smooth voice, dark eyes glittering so zealously in a unique piercing green, a dazzling smile that is bold and infectious. Her eyes drop, appreciating the beautiful arc of her neck, the razor sharp collar bones that capture glimpses of the strobe lights and pool with shadows. Tight jeans, figure hugging tank top, all in black. A stark contrast to the pale skin. And there are chestnut-brown curls, thick curls that ebb at her prominent jaw._

 

_She's hot. She's beautiful._

 

_"Uh- beers good. Thanks."_

 

_Bernie finally utters shyly and clears her throat. Thanks her lucky stars that the red tones illuminating conveniently conceal the rosy tinge to her cheeks and that she can hide behind her messy fringe until she locates composure._

 

_Short, though neatly manicured, fingertips glide a crumpled note across the polished countertops, hums that the bartender can keep the change._

 

_"I'm Liz." She's warm and bubbly; a sparky charisma._

 

_"Bernie."_

 

_Subconsciously, she tucks her blonde fringe behind her ear, reveals her sparkling cocoa eyes. Liz gazes directly into those deep orbs, and Bernie's lips quirk into a delightful grin._

_They claim their freshly prepared beers and blend into the throng of people. They chat, and drink and drink. Together they dance to the disco beats, subsequently dissolve into laughter as it's discovered that Bernie most certainly owns two left feet and is truly awful; though Liz thinks it's rather adorable, especially as the blonde falls into an embarrassed fluster._

 

_Drinks continue generously flowing into the early hours of the next morning, alternating between beers and shots. The perfect recipe for a guaranteed hangover later. But, right now, Bernie felt great, amazing even; confidence boosted from the excessive alcohol intake. They laugh and bounce from each others exotic company._

 

_People are beginning to filter out of the club now, Bernie and Liz easily slide out through the back doors for some fresh air. The building is sizzling hot, heady with the tang of alcohol and accumulating stale smoke. It's chilly in the night air, hugely welcomed and refreshing as the blonde breathes in the clear air, allows it to fill and satisfy her lungs._

 

_Liz is even more alluring in the pale moonlight, the gleam illuminating her flawless features, and Bernie learns her nose and cheeks are speckled with light freckles. A potent flame sparks from a lighter, ignites the tip of a cigarette, and Liz offers the roll up towards Bernie after taking a long drag herself._

 

_Now, they're standing close. Real close. Huddled together sharing a fag, simultaneously breathing in the smoke, blowing out white mists that ribbon into the midnight skies and evaporate. Exhaled breathes that suffocate one another's cheeks, tinted with the zeal of beer and vodka and tequila._

 

_And Liz presses her soft lips against Bernie's, and she instantly reciprocates. Because that is the most exhilarating, breathtaking sensation Bernie Wolfe has ever ever experienced. Her heart pounds in her chest, definitely arrhythmic. The kiss is deep; fiery and passionate. Intoxicating all senses, and the world spins in lust._

 

_They manoeuvre in tangent, Bernie's pressed against the outer club wall, bends her right knee and smacks the sole of her boot against the brick work. With the tiny cigarette end fluttering to the ground, their bodies are flush. Liz skilfully nips teasingly at Bernie's lower lip, rewarded with a low, indulged moan emitting from the blonde's throat._

 

_Bernie growls with a hungry desire as the contact breaks, and hand in hand they gait through the vacant streets beneath the darkness of nightfall, their destination a nearby hotel._

 

_Alternating between fast and rough and sultry, and slow and intense and delicate, they make out until the vibrant oranges and sunshine yellows of dawn crack across the dark skies. Enchanted. Fall into blissful slumber beneath the silky sheet, breathes ragged and harsh, skin coated in a thin layer of salty perspiration, their hair tousled and disheveled._

 

_Bernie feels content and lustfully exhausted; special. Appreciates how her smitten friends feel with their partners; how the world stands still, heartbeats race and her body is consumed with such an amazing, flutter sensation._

 

_Until, she stirs a short hour later, and her head's starting to thud, fuzzy with a heavy alcohol induced daze. And the realisation hits grimly. Bernie thinks of her parents, her father whom she cherished and admired dearly, and what they would say; to her dreams of a career in the military which would instantly be abolished and scorned if this ever emerged, for it was strictly forbidden. How, what they labelled as her sins, would tarnish and ridicule the family's highly respected name, and it would all her fault._

 

_She cannot bring such shame upon them, forces herself to ignore her heart._

 

_Slipping quietly from the messy covers, Bernie hurries to dress and with a final, wretched glance, she leaves while gnawing tensely at her bottom lip. Believes she'll never see Liz again. Forgets._

 

_The last days of summer vacation pass by and Bernie returns to her university lectures, fixates her concentration on her medical studies and channels her energy into football. Her night with Liz is pushed to the back of her mind, practically forgotten, and she dissipates herself from any lingering and drifting reminiscences._

 

_Settles back into the stability and routine of student life, knuckles down because qualifying as a doctor with aced grades is what she really wants. Determined to hit that goal, and achieve even higher._

 

_Lanky, lean legs stride agilely across the campus towards the labs, accompanied by a handful of fellow classmates, folders enveloped tightly in her toned arms and bag slung over her shoulder._

 

_Infectious Diseases - Bacteriology and Mycology; with Dr Cooper. Bernie's unfamiliar with the lecturer's name, racks her brains decisively to conclude she hasn't heard it mentioned before, then recalls that Dr Ascott, whom's lab the lesson is participating within, is on maternity leave. Assumes Dr Cooper is the stand in._

 

_She enters the classroom briskly, fumbling through the disordered bundle of folders and pulls out the correct module as she shifts towards a desk. It's then, she finally tilts her gaze and peers through her messy fringe towards the front of the lab, the lecturer adding finish touches to preparations._

 

_Her eyes amplify, dark pupil dilating in an unsettling alarm as her breath catches in the back of her throat. Liz. Bernie ducks her head, blends in with the blur of students and dashes to claim a vacant desk as near to the back as possible._

 

_She tries, and fails, to focus on the content, and shun eye contact. Thinks that she does actually quite like Dr Cooper's approach and structure of seminar; a nice balance of theory and practical._

 

_But then - entirely accidentally - she draws attention to herself during an experiment as a glass tube slips from her slender fingers, which are trembling ever so slightly with guilt and regret that saturates her veins, and smashes spectacularly onto the hard floor._

 

_That's when their eyes finally connects, Liz's features frown in surprise, lips drawn into a thin, emotionless line. Tension crackles invisibly between them, like electric impulses and current, dribbled ever so slightly with the lust and attraction of that night. They keep it professional, Bernie blushes furiously and hides behind her hair, mutters an apology. And Dr Cooper advises and rectifies her method of results gathering before moving on to the next student._

 

_Bernie's called to wait back at the end of the lesson, and stands awkwardly at the back of the room, slumps against the wall as she nervously fiddles with her hands and then a loose thread on the sleeve of her jumper. Attempts to steady her breathing, stares at the floor._

 

_The door shuts with a hefty slam, Liz lingering at the handle a little longer than necessary. She spins round, drags her fingers through her curls and puffs out a sigh. And for the first time, exasperation and resentful rage spark her expression._

 

_"You told me you were twenty-three, Bernie!" She hisses._

 

_Bernie blinks, eyelashes tangling in her fringe and twitches her shoulder in the approximation of a dismissive shrug. Studies the bright and bold lipstick colour that coats those kissable, inviting lips, notes how it matches her shoes. Plays tactful and hides beneath an invisible, stony wall that she's perfected and built._

 

_"I will be in three and a half years." Coy, smart words._

 

_"That's not the point! You know damn well that club was for over twenty-ones only! The law-"_

 

_"It was consensual, I knew what I was doing." Bernie retorts in a defensive manner, eyes dark and narrowed. She adds a murmur, "I, um, I don't regret it."_

 

_Silence basks, the background buzz of groups of students rotating the corridors for their next lectures seems dull and low, like it's far away into the distance. Dr Cooper perches gracefully on the edge of a desk and exhales, tentatively observes the beautiful blonde._

 

_"Where did you go? Or why? I returned to that club on several other nights, hoping to see you again..but you never came back." It's quiet and soft, laced with tender emotion, evident that she's still in delightful awe even with the latest epiphany._

 

_"I..." Her lips part to speak, yet she can't seem to express words. Can't quite fathom how to turn her thoughts and feelings into coherent sentences. "I don't know."_

 

_And truthfully, she doesn't. Can't recall what she was thinking: she clearly wasn't thinking. The sensation of passion and desire that had fuelled her veins was new, and frankly, terrifying. Overwhelming._

 

_"Do you have anything to say?"_

 

_"Just....I'm sorry," Bernie breathes out, it's a gentle hum. And it's genuine. She inhales, "I have another lecture and I'm going to be late-"_

 

_"Oh, right. Of course." Liz stands, arms protectively folded across her chest and nods understandably, "See you around, Bernie."_

 

_A few weeks later, Bernie is one of three specially elected - hand picked with the finest detail - by Dr Cooper to assist with her research project. Microbiome of wounds in acute trauma injuries._

 

_It's a wonderful opportunity, these projects are scarce with very limited spaces; a real honour. And Bernie eagerly accepts. She couldn't possibly decline. The additional time in Liz's company is simply a bonus._

 

_Their awkwardness smoothes over, the spark between them still very much present and ignited, bubbling with exhilaration._

 

_Bernie spends her free time in the lab with Liz, sometimes the other two chosen students are there as well. Though Bernie knows she puts in a lot more time than them, deliberately. She runs experiments, efficiently collects results. Helps Dr Cooper analyse and interpret. Learns a great deal._

 

_Liz Cooper is young yet extremely intelligent and knowledgable in the field. Has most certainly earned her place in medicine, and is passionate to share and teach future generations. Yearns to discover more and further her own understandings. Wants to pioneer somewhere in the complex depths of medicine. And it's this year that Bernie Wolfe first discovers her own passion for trauma medicine_

 

_And over time, they begin to subconsciously flirt again. Neither can deny the attraction. They share ham and pineapple pizza in the rest room in the science block, specifically designed for students to chill and take breaks between studies. Smoke together out the back. Sometimes share a cheeky tipple late into the evenings; whiskey is their drink._

 

_Then, they are meeting out of university, occupying a hotel room. Soon develops into a regular thing. Weekly. Every single Saturday night. Bernie sneaks away subsequently to an afternoon of playing football, and they start getting to know each other properly, in all aspects. Bernie Wolfe longs for those Saturday nights. Spends her Sundays catching up on sleep, and later coursework, smirking wryly as her friends moan and groan about their hangovers._

 

_Occasionally, when nobody else is around, they sneak away into the store cupboard together, returning with disheveled hair, plump lips and tousled clothing._

 

_Their relationship blossoms, they radiate from one another and grow. And Bernie thinks this is how her friends feel, what she's been missing. She feels content and complete. Bernie fervently counts down the days during the compulsory festive holidays, family affairs of Christmas and New Year, plus cramming in more medical textbooks, consumes her entire schedule. She returns to university fresh and zealous to be reunited with Liz._

 

_It's five months of pure bliss._

 

_Then, the middle of a cold and dreary January arrives, with it the news of Dr Cooper attending and performing a talk at a massive seminar convention in New York, linked with her research project. There is place for one of her three supporting pupils to join. All expenses covered. The three of them knuckle down extra hard, aiming to please._

 

_Of course, Bernie is the lucky chosen one - Dr Cooper is candidly biased._

 

_In February, the New York trees are naked and stripped from their leaves, branches arcing and bowing and groaning beneath the heavy weight of snow which lay thick, dotted along the wide roads. Delicate snowflakes are still fluttering from the heavens, so petite and gentle as they twirl with elegance until they settle on the crisp ground._

 

_The seminar is very interesting, Bernie learns rather a lot. Bernie admires and treasures, immersed in wistful daydreams as she witnesses Liz in her glory and element, presenting and engaging with such avid enthusiasm._

 

_When they exit the hall, darkness is beginning to submerge the broad streets. The moonlight highlights and illuminates, the wintery landscape even more pretty and magnificent. Magical. Temperatures are still fluctuating below freezing point, and they bundle up in warm scarves and hats and gloves before huddling through the cold and back to the hotel._

 

_Liz invites Bernie to her suite. She's somehow wangled herself an upgrade, something to do with a water pipe burst in her initial reservation. A lavish bottle of champagne - entirely complimentary, as an apology, Liz claims - is waiting and chilling in a vessel of ice. Two perfect crystal wine glasses set on the side with precision._

 

_They drink champagne, lips crashing together once again. Adoring, steamy kisses. Bernie thinks she could so easily become addicted to her lips. It's heaven. She feels delirious. Bernie's heart still races every single time, her stomach fluttering with gentle butterflies of thrilling lust._

 

_Bodies flush, they gracefully tumble onto the spacious bed. A queen sized mattress, feathery soft, with memory foam sculpting charmingly to their exact shapes. Bones groan and sigh in contentment; it's been a long day. And Bernie relishes the beautiful sensation of the finest silk caressing her bare skin as garments are deliciously removed._

 

_The zest of heady sex lolls in the air, in the darkness. Bernie coils a lock of chestnut hair around her fingers, plays with it absentmindedly, and her husky voice hums softly. "I've been thinking, about how this can work. I've thought it all through..."_

 

_Liz tilts her head to the side, feels Bernie affectionately nuzzle into her mane of hair, inhales the scent of watermelons._

 

_Bernie Wolfe now hates the smell of watermelons with a vengeance._

 

_"I mean, it's less than two years now before I'm twenty-one. You won't be my lecturer then. It won't matter, any of it. It's such a short time compared to the rest of our lives, and we've already kept it our secret for six months. I don't care what anyone thinks, let them judge. I'm in love with you." She murmurs, rambles her thoughts. And she really has thought it all through._

 

_And it's then, Liz flinches and breaks the contact. The mood changes bitterly. She stares into the darkness, can hear the tiny gurgle as the blonde's breath anxiously hitches in her throat, guesses that those big wide amber eyes are bubbling with worry._

 

_"Bernie...I can't...I've been offered a position I'n Australia. And I've accepted."_

 

_The final words grate brutally against Bernie, and she tenses defensively. Her dark eyes have glazed over with the imminent threat of teardrops, her voice is broken and rippling with sadness that she internally battles to contain._

 

_"What about...us?!" Hoarse and cracked, she tightly grips the bedding in fists to the extent tiny crescent moons are being carved into the palms of her hands from her fingernails._

 

_"There is no us. It was fun while it lasted, I've had a great time with you Bernie Wolfe. You are quite special. But we were never going to last. I'm sorry, but it's time to admit that this is just really all a crush." Liz's manner remains smooth and bland and composed, causes Bernie's skin to prickle._

 

_Bernie clenches her teeth, sizzles with acrimony as she propels herself from the bed and hurries to dress, salvage what dignity she has left. "Evidently not special enough!" It's a spiteful bark and the hotel room door slams shut._

 

 

"I was filled with this empty feeling, I felt lost, angry." Bernie shrugs her shoulders marginally and glances at Serena and momentarily closes her eyes, blows out a breath with her disposable cup clasped tightly in her hands, "It was that summer I met Marcus, albeit reservedly, and I guess I never looked back."

 

Serena squeezes the blonde's hand kindly, offers comfort and silent encouragement because she knows Bernie isn't quite finished articulating just yet. Knows she's just allowing digesting time while she ponders and reflects.

 

"Looking back, I never let neither Marcus or Alex in completely. Wasn't quite ready to put my heart on the line as it were. But you, Serena, you have made me reconsider that. What we have - _had_ \- is difference and after much contemplation, and it's worth the risk, isn't it? That chance of happiness. Life's too short and all about taking chances. I'm ready to do this properly."

 

Serena grazes her lips against Bernie's knuckles, hums tenderly. Feels glad she is the person Bernie is willing to take a chance in, promises it will be worth while and that she doesn't intend to cause purposeful harm. Can't promise no harm, because after all, they are only human.

 

Bernie stubs out her cigarette, swishes a mouthful of tea and swallows, then fumbles in her pocket and retrieves a single mint and pops it in her mouth. Serena is extremely appreciative, Bernie knows she dislikes the stale taint of smoke and nicotine.

 

With a swift glance around, she establishes they are alone, and she graciously kisses Serena's lips. Medicine she has been craving for some time, and unquestionably the best medicine there is.


	12. Chapter 12

_15 days post injury_

 

Eight days later, Osgood at long last announces during the physical therapy session, following intensely diligent converses with doctors and surgeons, that Bernie is approved for more exaggerated exercise. Translates to Bernie Wolfe is granted permission to stand on her own two feet again and begin the next stage of rehabilitation.

 

Over the past couple of days, some sensitivity and response had tardily started to return to her marred leg. She could feel the raw burn of stretches and tingle of massages throb through the numb ache that dulled the limb. Such colossal relief. Her range of basic mobility was rather impressive, Osgood thought, now feeling was recovering; all flicks and flexes displaying positive muscle and nerve stimulation beyond the atrophy.

 

They exchange the small, basic side room for a proper physical therapy treatment room, complete and fitted with necessary equipment and extensive soft padding to prevent further injuries.

 

Then she would graduate to crutches very soon, and progress to a single cane in months to come as the vital nerve regeneration occurs. And perhaps proceed to walking again without aid. Hopes, in time, her movement is extensive enough to allow paced jogs, because she misses that.

 

The first piece of equipment she avails with is parallel bars secured nicely at waist height on stilts bolted to the ground. With abundances of cushioning. Bernie hauls herself from the chair, fingertips grasping tightly around the parallel bars so that her knuckles are white, and promptly comprehends muscle wastage is very much apparent. In her legs and arms.

 

Bernie manages a row of steps, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. The pain sears through her lower limb but she's strong and determined. Pushes herself to her absolute limit. Appreciates she needs to accept the prescription meds she's proffered to aid symptoms.

 

A couple of days later Bernie is walking with the help of crutches, finally seems to have reestablished her sense of equilibrium and got the hang of this. Practices several times throughout the day in short intervals, starts at the very beginning of regaining strength and muscle.

 

She doesn't declare the miraculous news to Serena, knows she still has a long journey ahead to full recovery. Instead, she waits another few days, until she's really stable, and surprises her.

 

Every morning now - Bernie has timed to precision - Serena pads into the side room, hips swaying, and they head out for their daily tea and dose of fresh air in the solitary gardens. Always makes sure Bernie's back in good time for PT. Usually, Bernie's propped upright and comfy, settled amidst feather pillows and blankets, with a half full beaker of protein supplement gripped in her hands. Bernie brightens instantly, and Serena helps her into warm clothes, and into the wheelchair. Routine.

 

This morning is different, though. Bernie's already up and out of bed, supported and balanced with her crutches. Waits for Serena, blinking nervously and equally joyfully behind her long fringe, eyelashes catching in strands of hair. Knows she will have to retreat to the wheelchair to go outside because she doesn't have the stamina right now.

 

Bernie grins as Serena enters right on cue, beams even greater as she learns that she's accompanied by Kate. A smile that glows on her cheeks, glitters up to her eyes.

 

"Serena! Kate!"

 

"Bernie!" Serena gasps in delightful shock, propels across the floor and envelopes her arms around the blonde strongly. Adds a fond peck of the cheek. "Look at you! When did this happen? Why didn't you say?! This...this is excellent progress!"

 

Kate joins Serena in tangent, an embrace so forceful and cheery that Bernie stumbles and nearly tumbles, inhales sharply herself. "I wanted to surprise you, Serena. I know you've been worried.."

 

"It's wonderful," Serena captures Bernie's lips, so soft and tender and addictive. In that blissful moment, their little bubble is so content and happy.

 

Bernie smiles, still flush and radiant, shuffles on her crutches, "When did you get back, Kate?"

 

"Late last night. Surprise." Her sister laughs, a husky honking sound that very much resembles Bernie's own guffaw and slides her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans. "Told you I'd come visit when I got chance."

 

Kate joins Bernie and Serena for their regular tea and sweet pastries, and they catch up in the fresh and revitalising air of the outdoors. Bernie updates them both on the intricate details of her physical therapy sessions and divulges in her improvements and developments. Reckons she should be discharged in another fortnight or so, providing no hiccups are encountered, and able to return home to England. Jokes that she will stop imposing on their lives and restore some regularity. And they both promise Bernie that she is many magnificent things - but a nuisance is not on the list.

 

A while later, the delicate patter of fine rain chases them back to the shelter of the hospital, welcomed by a toasty blast of warm air as they amble through the automated doors at the entrance. Kate's steady gaze swiftly identifies Osgood queuing in line at the cafe; she quickly makes her excuses, says she'll be back shortly and strides to surprise the nerdy brunette.

 

Bernie rolls her sparkling eyes and Serena smirks wryly, and they observe from a distance until Kate catches their eyes, her unblemished cheeks blushing with a pink rose followed with a rather impolite gesture and arc of an eyebrow. And the pair scarper, retreating to the trauma ward once again.

 

They chat idly, lightly pushing through the swing doors into Bernie's room. And suddenly, a brusque silence disembarks. Because, both of them, are lured to a vibrant bloom of extravagant flowers and an impressive hamper of red and green grapes perched innocently on the bedside table.

 

Bernie instantly knows. Gulps and holds her breath tensely. The grapes confirm everything before her eyes even begin to scan the remainder of the room.

 

"Excuse me. What do you think you are doing?" Bold and curt, Serena's voice cuts harshly through the ambience, brimming with sincere authority as she addresses the intruder whom stands facing towards the window, posture poised and stoic, studying bulks of medical notes. "Those files are confidential! Who on earth do you think you are?"

 

Bernie's breath hitches, her lip wobbles and purses. And she reluctantly fixates her stealthy orbs on the person. A woman. Army fatigues. Cropped, glossy chestnut-brown hair.

 

She gasps, exhales shakily. "Alex..."

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been ages and I'm sorry but I've finally found some motivation and am feeling reinspired by Bernie's return, and am well on the way to finishing this little fic!

"Alex..."

 

Serena repeats slowly, the name rolling thickly from the tip of her tongue. Eyes are dark and narrowed, fixated and brimming with intense cognition. Then it clicks, a spark flares across her eyes and her pupils amplify.

 

And the words that follow are rather hostile and bitter. "As in Alex Dawson?"

 

Alex wheels round sharply, sturdy boots thudding against the floor, and stands with stoic poise. The assertive stance of a soldier. "Yes, that's correct. Captain Dawson. I don't think we've met?"

 

She casts a fleeting glance to acknowledge Serena, proffers a right hand, before lingering her steady gaze on Bernie, skilfully snaps shut the folder of patient notes and props them in the crease of her arm.

 

Serena sneers a harsh scoff, insolently rejects the polite gesture and stalks to the other side of the room. The wrath has settled into the fine lines of her complexion, acrimony contorting her bland expression.

 

With her jaw clenched, breath hitched in her throat, Bernie observes the brief and strained exchange between the two women. The two of her lovers of some description.

 

And during that time, she's fumbled for the crutches that she can just reach from where Serena stopped the wheelchair, and she scuffles gravely to her feet with aid. Because suddenly being sat down makes her feel small. Feels vulnerable; unguarded as everyone else towers above her. Standing fuels her with some sense of confidence. She feels stronger.

 

Now, Alex is approaching Bernie, boots drumming and cutting through the tense silence, creates an anticipating background hum. "Are you okay? What happened, Bern? I came as quickly as I could.." She leans in to peck Bernie's cheek, but the blonde snaps her head away to the side painfully quickly - Serena perceives her grimace at the sharp movement, all whilst her opaque orbs remain pointing daggers at Alex who frowns in dismay.

 

"Don't..." A scarcely audible murmur, so low and muted and breathy. Only Alex hears. Bernie taps her fellow army medic's hand away as the younger woman reaches to stroke her cheek, tuck a lock of honey blonde hair behind her ear.

 

Bernie swallows thickly and clears her throat, locates her composure. "What are you doing here, Alex?" There's a sincere authoritative edge to her tone; it's not a question, but a demand.

 

"I got the message from my superior that you'd been involved in an accident. I've been out in Kandahar, I had to finish my work - you know how it is. I'm sorry it's taken me two weeks to arrive, I've been so worried-"

 

"Wait-" Serena interrupts and her cocoa eyes are darkening even more, scorn engraving deeply into her features. She blows a rather cruel laugh from her lips as her fingertips tangle in the short hairs at the nape of her neck, waves a finger on her other hand pointedly, "Why was she contacted and I wasn't?! Or even Kate!"

 

"Oh," Bernie exhales and pauses. Chews anxiously on her lower lip as she recalls what has actually happened. Contemplates how to elucidate without offending or hurting Serena's feelings. Impossible. "I can explain..."

 

"I was down as Bern's next of kin." Alex unhelpfully adds.

 

And Serena rants. Exasperated and feeling rather foolish. "She's your next of kin? Explains why you didn't want me out here; you're still bedding her! After everything we've been through, after everything I said. You said. Once again, you've made a bloody fool out of me Berenice Wolfe! But I'm telling you, that is the very last time you do."

 

With that, Serena struts towards the door and allows it to clatter loudly behind her exit, clearly ignoring Bernie's desperate plead. "Serena, wait. Please!" The door bounds open again, Bernie thinks for a tiny moment that Serena's actually listened. But no. It's Kate that walks in, lips parted as she curiously assesses the situation.

 

"Kate," Bernie breathed out, teeth still gritted in frustration. Her hands are white with anger, clamped so tightly around the handles of her crutches, and she's trembling with the inflicts of stress. "Uh, this is Alex."

 

Kate arcs her eyebrow, gazes at the army medic. "Alex..as in-"

 

"Yes." She huffs and then uncharacteristically begs, "Please go after Serena for me? Tell her I can explain, really...it's not what she thinks. There's a perfectly rational explanation. I just need to speak with Alex first. Alone. Tidy up loose ends." She sees Alex's prominent jaw clench in apprehension.

 

"And what exactly does Serena think?"

 

"That's irrelevant right now!" An ominous hiss, "Please, Kate-"

 

"I'm going." Kate lifts her hands in defence, looks the brunette up and down one final time before retreating out the door, leaving the army medics alone as requested.

 

Alex strides towards Bernie instantly, hushed her objections swiftly as she helps the lanky blonde back towards the bed. She's shaking profusely with the pressure and tiring quickly. The last thing they needed was Bernie to fall and implicate her recovery further. Bernie reluctantly accepts the help because she is in unbearable pain and because she knows Alex's intentions are right.

 

Silences clings densely in the air until Bernie sufficiently catches her breath and ponders over her words.

 

"Serena, uh, Serena's my..." She pauses thoughtfully, doesn't look Alex in the eye; they never discussed what word they'd use. Girlfriends. Lovers. Partners. "..my partner. _Was_. Is. I don't know."

 

Alex nods and her azure orbs glitter with sadness. She had suspected, of course, but actually hearing it stirs a raw ache in her heart. She chokes, gazes down at her own knuckles. "I thought...you put me down as your next of kin...I thought that meant you'd decided what you wanted. _Me_." The pain ripples through her voice poignantly, and Bernie feels guilty again. Her best interests always inflict hurt.

 

"I'm sorry." It's a truthful whisper as she tilts her head upwards and glares at the ceiling. "It was a spur of the moment thing, my choices were very limited. I never thought anyone would essentially contact you. I should never have done it, it was wrong of me. I'm so sorry to have prolonged you yet more pain."

 

"I'd always wait for you, Bern. Always." Alex admits with a disappointed sigh, "I thought you loved me."

 

"I do. _I did_." Bernie confirms genuinely, because it's true. And she never wants Alex to doubt that because they did have something. "I'm just not _in_ love with you anymore. It's just the way it is and I'm sorry."

 

The anaesthetist shakes her head, swallows and fights her tears. She understands despite how painful the acceptance and realisation is. "Don't be. The heart wants what the heart wants. I'm just sorry that I'm not the one to make you happy."

 

"You did make me happy once, Alex." Extending her arm, she grasps hold of Alex's hand in her own. "Don't ever doubt that. I'll never forget what we had. You taught me a lot, Captain Dawson. I _owe_ you a lot. I've been rather cruel in my own actions."

 

"All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. And if that's not with me, then so be it." A single, forlorn teardrops surfaces from the inner corner of Alex's eyes and rolls down her cheek, dripping onto the collar of her uniform. "I knew there would be a chance when I turned up that my assumptions would be wrong...but I had to make sure you were okay. I still care."

 

"Thank you." Bernie spoke delicately, "I do hope that you find happiness with someone, Alex. Take care." It's genuine and heartfelt. She smiles sadly.

 

Alex nods curtly and regains her equilibrium, allows the grazing touch of her hands to linger for as long as possible. Savours it. She paces towards the door, turns for one final look back, "Goodbye, Major." And she departs, her footsteps echoing into the distance.

 

Bernie washes down her prescription painkillers with a swig of water and nestles down beneath the blankets on the bed. Hopes Serena will come back and allow her opportunity to explain. To fix things. She's still loyal and faithful, technically hasn't done anything wrong except bugger off to Ukraine...

 

It's a long while before Serena and Kate eventually do return. Equipped with three sweet teas and biscuits and fruit. Bernie had dozed off into an uneasy slumber, exhausted from the mornings antics, but stirred at the click of the door and rubs the sleep from her eyes with the heel of her palm.

 

"Your sister is equally as stubborn and persuasive as you." Serena informs as she places a takeaway cup on the bedside unit, shoots a sideways glance at the military detective.

 

Bernie presses her lips into a tight line, squints in attempt to clear her vision from the blur of sleep and tries to read the vascular surgeon's vague expression.

 

"I've spoken to Alex, well she came to find me on her way out..." Bernie's body tenses with apprehension, Serena's cease generating more suspense. "...said nothing happened between you, that there hasn't even been any contact in months. I'm sorry-"

 

With a sarcastic grunt, she shifts so she's propped up by the pillows, arms protectively folded across her chest. "Don't be. Isn't the saying once a cheat always a cheat?" And she bites down on her tongue.

 

Serena winces at the solemn harshness of the statement. Shakes her head sadly and exhales. "No. I shouldn't have doubted you. I should have trusted you." The tip of her tongue runs over her lips and she ponders, "We weren't even together when you left, so it's none of my business if there was someone else. You were well within your rights,"

 

"There was no one else. And there certainly isn't anything going on between me and Alex. Not anymore, not for a long time. Turns out our relationship only works under war zone conditions." Bernie confirms, those big amber eyes sparkle with an authentic promise and emotion, blink with a degree of hurt. "There is an explanation, albeit perhaps slightly insane. If you'd just given me chance.."

 

"I'm listening now. Better late than never, right?"

 

Their hands clasp together tentatively, silky pads of fingertips caressing satin skin. Bernie can never deny how her stomach flutters at the tiniest skin contact, how her heart skips a beat at the little impulses of lust.

 

"I had to fill out some forms for the secondment; the usual personal and contact details. I could hardly put my ex husband down as my next of kin. The kids and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now. I couldn't tie your hands like that. I did put Kate down too. And Alex, she was just a fluke of the moment thing. Never imagined they would ever need those details!"

 

Serena nods and shrugs, "It's been a long few months."

 

"All our patiences have been tested." Bernie concurs.

 

"I'm sorry." The brunette presses plush lips against Bernie's in a velvet, fond movement. Delicate and sensual. And they rub noses tenderly, nuzzle for a short time.

 

Until Bernie's stomach rumbles loudly at the sound of a biscuit crunching and fixates her eyes on her sibling. "Kate, have you got hobnobs? And aren't sharing them?!" 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter, here we go! There's quite a time jump between the last chapter and this one. Thanks for reading :)

One step forward, two steps back. That's what the last four months of Bernie's recovery had felt like. She would progress seemingly, jaw clenched and teeth gritted with lines of pain ingrained in her forehead as she followed meticulous physiotherapy and recuperation plans. Then setbacks occurred, faltering the positivity. More infections, blood clots and the intimating, unnerving realisations of further indefinite paralysis.

 

Ever the soldier, ever the fighter, Bernie trooped on. She had something worth fighting for. _Serena_.

 

Brimming with unconditional support, Serena remained by her side. Letting Serena Campbell go once had been foolish, she couldn't make the same mistake twice; the brunette had undoubtedly made it crystal clear she was staying because she considered there still to be that initial spark, still a crackle of zest worth clinging onto. Not because of pity or guilt.

 

A month after the accident, Bernie had been discharged from hospital and subsequently flown back to the UK. Serena had insisted that the former army medic moved into her home and aided her with her recovery. The downstairs study of Serena's house had been transformed into a fully accessible bedroom for Bernie prior to their return, with the help of Fletch and Raf.

 

Bernie was touched at the extensive efforts Serena and her friends had gone to just to ensure the smoothest of recuperations. It marked a monumental progression of their relationship; it was serious. _Actions speak louder than words_. Serena was invested and staying, all harbouring traces of guilt and unease devoured away. None of her former lovers would have ever gone to such considerations.

 

They were taking things slow. But their relationship was resilient and strong. Together, they had agreed that Serena would stay in the new downstairs bedroom with Bernie, at least until the blonde was more mobile. Because together they could achieve anything. Practical. She didn't want to smother; the medic had been through a traumatic events and it would take some time before she fully allowed herself to open up again. _Exposed_.

 

In all honesty, Bernie relished the company. It was reviving. The glorious warmth and tingling sensation of waking up next to the woman she was head over heels in love with, a feeling she hadn't even realised she'd craved so deeply. A beautiful yet sleepy smile and silvered brunette hair sticking up in the craziest of directions. Butterflies still flutter in her stomach at every smile. The light in her darkest hours. Tiny, peppered kisses - all medicinal, of course - definitely helped. Toasty embraces and good night kisses. And endless supplies of Bernie's favourite honeycomb chocolate to comfort the longest, gruelling days.

 

Bernie stirs to the golden beam of early morning sunshine beaming through the crack in the curtains, the primary traces of sunrise and light just emerging from the dusky shadows of night. Serena's still dozing peacefully to her right, very quiet snores humming in the background.

 

She reaches quietly for her book and glasses from the nightstand, intends to distract herself from the numb yet prominent pain that shoots up and down her leg. Sensation and movement are gradually returning, she's finally making progress. Her monitoring surgeons are content with the improvements, little signs that the crucial nerve and muscle regeneration are occurring. She can now lift her leg and manoeuvre with crutches, wiggle her toes.

 

The book perches delicately on her lap subsequently to a miserably failed attempt to concentrate on the content, and Bernie gazes aimlessly towards the concealed window. Lost in her own thoughts. Swallowed by self-pity.

 

"Hey..." A sleep laden voice echoes through the room, pierces the silence. Serena shuffles and props her elbow on the feather pillow and supports her head in her hand, "Are you okay Bernie?"

 

"Hmm? Sorry I was miles away." Bernie murmurs, vaguely hearing the velvety rich sound of her lover's voice yet too immersed in a daze to register the words. Twisting her neck, dark eyes fixate on Serena and she concentrates.

 

Serena gracefully extends her arm, silky fingertips grazing at the soft skin of her cheek. "I asked if you were alright?"

 

She nods, curves her head further so her lips collide with Serena's hand and she deposits a couple of light kisses. "Just thinking..."

 

They bask the silence for a short while, Serena studying the faint lines crinkling Bernie's forehead, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing, highlighting the great depths of her pondering. Gently, she inquires, "Oh the mind boggles, what's going on in that head of yours Berenice?"

 

Bernie roughly runs the tip of her tongue over her dry lips, clears her throat. "It's ironic really. I survived the imminent dangers and hostile deserts serving in the army. Survived an IED. I thought the risks of civilian life significantly decreased after that but it's a dingy alleyway in Ukraine that nearly finishes me off!" The words ooze from her lips rather abruptly, more cynical and stoic than intended. She huffs with resentfulness; frustrated with the situation, embittered with the length of her recuperation.

 

"Well, I think everything has a degree of hazards and perceptions." Serena loops her arm beneath the covers, entwined her own fingertips with Bernie's and squeezes softly. "But you are recovering, you are making progress. You are going to get through this; survive it. I know there's been more setbacks than initially hoped but there is a life after all this. And we're going to get through this together."

 

With the pad of her thumb, Bernie strokes the back of the brunette's hand, "I know, I know, I'm just being silly." Her other hand rubs at her temples fleetingly and she shakes her head, "It's just not exactly how I imagined our relationship to begin." She stretches her leg, flexes her toes and exhales a wince.

 

Serena peers over to Bernie's bedside table and notes the painkiller she placed there the night before remains untouched. "You're hurting." It's an observation, not a question.

 

The blonde shrugs off the comment and slumps further into the supportive pillows, tilts her head and elevated her gaze back to Serena. Her eyes endure the rich dark twinkle, only this time there's hints of glittering lust and a laces of wonder. "It's not just my leg,"

 

Bernie swallows, her voice lowers with a husky demeanour that whirs delightfully in Serena's ears for the first time in a long, long while. And it's like heaven; enchanting, enticing, rich. "I do have another pain....right _here_."

 

In a swift motion, she tenderly manoeuvres Serena's hand to rest on her own chest where, as always when admiring Serena in awe, her heart rate had accelerated and skipped a few beats, thumping rapidly through her chest.

 

"Oh really?" Serena plays along, rises to the challenge with a perfectly arced eyebrow and delicious smirk. Edging closer so her breath tickles at Bernie's throat, she purrs, "Could be serious. Mind if I take a look?"

 

With a consenting nod from Bernie, Serena shuffles closer and delicately she begins to stroke at the skin, soft yet slightly rough from the faded scars of surgery after the IED explosion. Her caresses gradually become stronger, eyes fixated on Bernie's face, observing the tiniest gulps and hitches of breath in the back of the blonde's throat as she teasingly trails her fingertips down to Bernie's breast.

 

"Oh!" A breathless gasp and Bernie's orbs flicker shut transiently before snapping open and ravishingly beaming up at Serena. "Mm. Yes, just there." She groans with delight, eyes so wide with hunger and so dark with lust.

 

"I think it's _very_ serious." Serena concludes flirtatiously, her own cheeks glowing in the heat of the moment, lavishing the effects of her movements.

 

Bernie's body flushes a healthy tinge of pink, lips suppressing gratifying groans as Serena's skilled fingers rotate to massage her other breast through her sleep shirt and sports bra. Her free arm snakes beneath the worn cotton of her old RAMC shirt and fondles the satin skin of her torso, lightly tracing over the faint scar of her c-section, not an inch of skin left unloved.

 

Vigilant of the blonde's injury, Serena mindfully shuffles and manoeuvres so she can hover above the former army medic's body. Teasingly, she dips her head to the crook of a Bernie's neck, plants exquisite, long kisses on her flushed skin. Playful nips at her ear lobes and sprinkles abundances of little, delicate kisses wherever she can reach. Her hands wander Bernie's upper body and she cheekily pinched her peaks of arousal.

 

"Serena!" Another hot, breathy wheeze and Bernie's hips arch from the bed in a heady combination of surprise and pure allure. And for the intensity of the moment, she's forgotten about the dull ache in her leg.

 

Serena ravishingly watches her actions bring Bernie to a state of sensual stimulation for the very first time in months. Her own breathing rapidly increasing as she hums with satisfaction and passion despite electing to forget about her own burning desires. The intimacy is something they had both craved and longed for. And although they still had a long way to go before they could completely share physical love, this was something. This was a enough, for now.

 

Serena persists in bathing Bernie with lingering kisses, smirks proudly at the abstract pattern of marks her mouth leaves in her wake. Raw and bright in comparison to her usual milky complexion. Knows Bernie will curse later when she notices in the mirror. And her talented fingers continue to work their magic as she palpates her chest.

 

Until the blonde's body climaxes to a shudder of desire, stiffens and then relaxes. And those deep eyes flare open and stare in amazement, twinkle with wonder and swirl with desire. Her cheeks are blushed, skin coated in a thin glaze of sweat. The words then tumble from Bernie's lips before she has chance to engage her brain and fully process what just happened.

 

"I love you, Serena."

 

"Bernie...." Serena's quiet voice wobbles with a detectable lace of sadness and fear, and she gently shakes her head and presses her eyes closed, fingers still stroking at a Bernie's cheek and prominent jawline, her other hand tangled in luscious honey blonde curls. "Please don't - you've been through so much in such a short space of time, you're at your most vulnerable state, you're not thinking clearly-"

 

Tenderly pressing her own lips to the brunette's, Bernie interrupts Serena's words and silences her. Her heart is still racing and she's still attempting to regulate her breathing, but she's most definitely lucid and confident in her muted response. Emotions still aren't Bernie Wolfe's forte, but she has to try.

 

"I am thinking perfectly straight, for once in my life. Everything's never been clearer, in fact. I mean every word, Serena-" she pauses and lifts Serena's chin, engages important eye contact. "You already know I'm _in_ love with you, have been ever since I set eyes on you, to be honest, and I still kick myself for how long I was blind-sighted and in denial. So cowardly and stupid. I wish I'd had the opportunity to take you to that Italian restaurant with the extensive wine list....but I mean it; I love you, Serena Campbell. It _should_ be enough-"

 

It's raw from the heart. Poignant and affection. And she trembles with nerves because she's way out of her comfort zone with expressing her feelings but know it is vitally necessary. She's vowed to be honest, let Serena in.

 

Serena brushes her lips against Bernie's, kisses her with force and unmistakable passion. Her lips have twitched into a touched smile, a small perfectly formed teardrop rolling from the inner corner of her eye, and her brown orbs dance with the warm zest that fills in air around them.

 

"It _is_ enough!" The joy ripples through Serena's zealous tone and she cups Bernie's cheeks fondly in her hands. "I'm in love with you too, Berenice Wolfe. _Always_. I know things haven't been plain sailing but we're in this together.... _for eternity_....and you know, that Italian restaurant with the extensive wine list is still open, and as long as we can order by the bottle and not the glass-"

 

"Deal!" Bernie agrees, grins and infectious beam and emits her spectacular laugh.

 

Consumed by the moment once again, Serena appreciates how privileged she is to be the lucky one who gets to bask such a glorious sight, and leans in for another kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the final chapter. Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed!

  
"What's this?" Through the thick rims of her glasses, Bernie diverts her gaze from her laptop screen, briefly scans the delicate envelope Serena deposited by her side, and finally greets her partner with a curious smile.

 

A gentle clink of glasses echoes through from the kitchen, skilfully balanced between the long fingers of Serena's hand as she collects a bottle of finest shiraz out the wine rack. Bernie hears the joyous smile that radiates across the brunette's lips, voice bubbling with delight.

 

"An invitation to Holby City's trauma unit fundraising gala."

 

Bernie gasps with surprise, raises her eyebrows fleetingly as she scans the content of the invite. Her lips curl positively, an infectious grin of thrill. "It's been approved?!" Rhetorical.

 

"Yes!" She releases the cork with a satisfying pop and generously pours the deep crimson liquid into the crystal glasses. "It's about time too, Holby needs this dedicated unit."

 

Quietly thanking Serena for the wine, Bernie tilts her head to the side slightly and purses her lips, "What made them finally give the green light? This has been in discussion for months. I'd have thought it was off the cards weeks ago."

 

"You left a legacy behind when you left for Ukraine, Bernie. Very much an eye opener to HR."

 

She wrinkles her nose with a scoff and cynical chuckle. "Pfft. I highly doubt that."

 

"Well, you are the greatest trauma surgeon this country has to offer." Serena wiggles her eyebrows and smirks coyly, swishing her shiraz elegantly around the rim of the glass.

 

"It's still always has been in various levels of discussion, but the major incident that occurred a couple of weeks ago was the tipping point. That multi vehicle RTC; neither Holby or St James were properly equipped to cope. Too many lives that could have been saved were lost down to inexperienced staff and lack of specialised equipment and coping mechanism to handle the influx."

 

Bernie nods, listening intently as she closes her laptop lid and shifts it onto the table, then shuffling across the sofa to make room for the brunette. "Makes sense. It will more than pay for itself in the long run."

 

Perching next to her lover, Serena swallows some wine, savours the delicious taste and toys with the delicate chain suspended round her neck. "So, Henrik would like to know if you are going to be the unit's leading surgeon."

 

"Serena-" Exhaling a short breath she didn't even realise she was holding, Bernie fleetingly shut her eyes before looking up. "I don't know. Not right now, at least. I still can't comfortably stand for that long-"

 

" _Yet_." Serena interrupts and corrects, "Yet. Osgood says you're making heaps of progress. Even ready to return to active duties. You're getting stronger every day."

 

Bernie glances back to the fellow surgeon, maintains eye contact and matter-of-factly states, "I haven't operated in over six months now."

 

"Worried you've lost your magic touch?"

 

"Quite the contrary, actually." Bernie shakes her head, her messy blonde curls tumbling from behind her ears, long fringe concealing her dark eyes. "You know I'd been back in theatre in a heartbeat. It's my bread and butter. Paperwork is mind numbing, I loathe being office bound. And teaching does not have the same for-fill-ment as theatre."

 

In a swift, graceful movement, Serena extends her arm and brushes the curls from the blonde's face, tenderly rests her fingertips against the silky skin of her jaw. "There's still going to be a matter of weeks before the unit is up and running. Take on some minor procedures, routine ops. Get your hand back in."

 

"Try convincing Henrik of that first. He has me strictly restricted to office duties. You know I cannot stand being confined to that measly room, surrounded by umpteen piles of paperwork-" she gulps another mouthful of wine, diverts her gaze to observe the tiny droplets of shiraz roll down the curve of the glass and splash into the pool of crimson.

 

"That can be arranged. So what do you say?"

 

Bernie presses her lips together and pushes her specs from the bridge of her nose up into her hair. "I'll think about it."

 

Serena nods and offers a kind smile. It's good enough. The corners of her mouth twitch and her eyes sparkle like a thousand freshly polished diamonds despite her best attempts to maintain a sincere tone.

 

"And if you need to strengthen your hand grip in preparation, in the mean time, I highly recommend knitting."

 

Bernie honks a short laugh and arches her eyebrow, "I'll give the knitting a miss thanks." She wraps her long fingers around the bottle of shiraz and tops up their glasses.

 

The brunette's fingertips entwine themselves in soft hair, twirls a golden lock absentmindedly. "Will you at least attend the gala?"

 

"Not really my scene-" Again, her nose furrows; a simple action that Serena finds oddly sweet. Social events never had been her thing.

 

"Bernie, this is your field. This is the trauma unit you fought for all those months ago. In fact, guaranteed half the attendees are coming solely to catch a glimpse of the greatest trauma surgeon!"

 

Bernie huffs momentarily, decides to drown her aversion in copious amounts of their favourite burgundy tipple. "Fine."

 

~\~\~

 

Clad in a long black dress, Bernie scans her reflection in the mirror. The silky material hugs her slim figure deliciously, displays a teasing amount of cleavage and highlights her sharp collarbones, and cascades down onto the floor.

 

Choosing an attire had been a difficult chore. Typically, the blonde would have artlessly opt for tailored trousers and a shirt. Trademark Bernie Wolfe. But the comfy trainers that were incredibly necessary did not fit the dress code; the trails of satin black material concealing them perfectly.

 

Serena tamed Bernie's tousled locks, twirling the unruly curls into a neat clip at the nape of her neck. A few stray strands accompanied her fringe and framed her face effortlessly.

 

Settled on the stool at her partner's dressing table, Bernie generously applied a second coat of thick mascara to her lashes to complete her natural look. Through her peripheral vision in the corner of the mirror, she observes the brunette slip her feet into her heels, smooth out the imaginary creases in the fitted cocktail dress edged in delicate lace and enhance her lips with her favourite statement red.

 

"Don't you scrub up well, Major." Serena smirks, extending her arms to help the blonde to her feet.

 

"Not bad yourself, Campbell." She retorts instantly with a warm grin and glances to the elegant silver watch adorning her wrist. "With seven minutes to spare. I'm impressed." The remark earns her a playful swat to her arm and they amble outside to wait for the pre booked cab.

 

The gala is a very formal affair. A grand hall brimming with doctors and surgeons and potential entrepreneurs and funders. Accepting complimentary flutes of champagne, they blend into the crowds and conversations whirr to life. Kate and Osgood are present for support of the fundraiser. They catch up and Bernie can't help but smile as she witnesses the skilful and subtle heart eye exchanges between the two women, the tactile touches of a blossoming relationship.

 

The trauma surgeon perches at the bar wearily and allows herself to drift a while later. Basks the gentle music reverberating the background, the whir of chatter and laughter. Laughs slightly as she perceives a rather intoxicated Ric take a tipsy Serena's hand for a dance.

 

"Mum." A familiar voice echoes through the clusters of people, the person shimmying through the crowds towards the Major, equipped with a beer.

 

Bernie squints, twisting her head slowly as she peers into the groups of attendees. "Oh. Cameron?" A quizzical frown bows into a bewildered smile, and she pulls herself back to her feet with the support of her cane. "What an earth are you doing here?"

 

"Surprise! You look well." He smiles cordially and and warmly comments upon the conclusions to his brief visual assessment of his mother's physical progress since their previous meeting. It's been a while.

 

She concurs with a light hum, "I'm doing okay."

 

Cameron rocks uneasily on his heels momentarily, swigs his beer from the bottle. "It's a good turnout tonight."

"Yes, quite. It seems there is a lot of investment in this trauma unit." A small nod, "I'd have thought you'd have more exciting ways to spend your Saturday night."

 

"And miss this?" He raises his eyebrows ardently, "I'm one of the first F2's to secure a place on this new state of the art trauma unit. I've decided I want to train as a trauma specialist. A stint on orthopaedics with dad was more than enough to convince me that I need something more stimulating. His work is mostly routine hip replacements and bone and muscle repair. Each case is going to be different in trauma."

 

Bernie's pleasantly surprised, and smirks slightly as she already knows how frustrated her ex husband will be that their son is following her footsteps, "And you've chosen Holby? What happened to London?"

 

"Want to learn from the best, don't I?" Cameron adds a cheeky grin subsequently to detecting the curiosity adorning the blonde's features.

 

"Me?"

 

"Yes. You're generally considered one of the best in your field. I hope that's not going to be a problem?"

 

"No, of course not. It's fine." Bernie forces a legitimate smile - knows she'll have to eventually address the dilemma of whether she actually takes the lead surgeon position - and reaches out to squeeze her son's shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Cam."

 

He makes his excuses and blends back into the crowds, and Bernie hastily gulps the remainder of her ice water and drops the glass back on the bar. It's now or never. She inhales a deep breath, holds for three, then slowly blows out. Steadying herself, she applies pressure with her fingertips to the counter and tucks away her cane before she pushes away and leisurely ambles through the syndicates unaided.

 

It's the first time in months she's publicly walked without aid. Slowly over time building up strength in physiotherapy with Osgood. It's a remarkable milestone and she feels bloody amazing. She reaches Serena and proffers a hand.

 

Clearing her throat, Bernie's voice is husky and her features glitter with high spirits. _Delight_. And she bubbles with glee as she eagerly awaits her partners reaction. "I think this dance is mine."

 

"Bernie!" Serena beams, instantly clutching her lover's hand proudly. The simple action is followed by an impressive exclamation that dazzles to her deep eyes. "You're walking without a cane!" Instinctively, she hurls her arms zealously around Bernie, nearly toppling them both with fervent, and deposits a passionate kiss on her lips.

 

"Careful," With a low, throaty chuckle, Bernie sets her hands on the brunette's hips and steadies herself.

 

"You're actually walking!" Serena doses praise and glory in between kisses. "You're unbelievable, do you know that?"

 

"Well, I can manage short intervals without my stick. It's a start." They begin swaying together in rhythm with the music and Bernie muses before tenderly rubbing noses with Serena.

 

"I _knew_ Major Wolfe wouldn't be defeated. Ever the soldier, she rises to the challenge."

 

The pair depart the gala while the night is still young. Bernie knows and respects her limits, although Serena had merrily protested that they were leaving copious bottles of free shiraz behind despite appreciating her partner's needs for rest. A compromise settled when the blonde sneakily slipped a bottle out with them and promised they could continue the celebrations at home. _Ever the rebel._

 

They hail a taxi and after the clamber inside, Serena wipes the smudged red lipstick from Bernie's mouth before groaning resentfully as she rummages through her handbag in search of her keys but instead discovers her hospital pager. Waving the culprit device towards the blonde, she sighs.

 

"I have to return this to the hospital. I'm not in tomorrow."

 

Bernie signals to the driver, politely requesting a minor detour via Holby City hospital. Asking for the cab driver to wait, they hurry into the hospital and take the lift to AAU. The night air is chilly now, all traces natural light submerged by the velvet shadows of dusk. They nestle together, shrugging off the wispy breeze that whistled through the fresh night air.

 

Serena dashes away once they reach AAU, leaving Bernie slumped against the wall opposite the nurses desk. Her heels clip piercingly, echoing into the distance of the oddly muted ward and combining with the low background hum of the steady beeps from machines monitoring current resident patients.

 

And it's in an acute moment where the serenity of the ward is impulsively distorted. From the side room, monitors signal a noisy distress, the warning alarm intensifying loudly. Donna pokes her head out the door and shouts for assistance. "Can I get some help in here please."

 

The blonde scans AAU with wide eyes, frowns when she learns that the on duty consultant is busy elsewhere. With the service of her trusty can, she rushes through the swing doors as quickly as she physically can, ignores the escalating pain numbing her leg.

 

"What have we got?" She pumps some disinfectant gel onto her hands, methodically rubbing it in to her palms.

 

"Her BPs crashing. She's just lost consciousness-" Donna pauses abruptly, "Wait. Ms Wolfe with hold your respect but you shouldn't be in here-"

 

"I'm more than capable, thank you very much." Bernie scolds bluntly, already lifting the notes from the foot of the bed, she familiarises herself with the case. Seven and a half month pregnant twenty-two year old involved in RTC earlier that afternoon. Primary scans indicating free fluid of the abdomen. Baby currently unharmed and healthy.

 

"No, no. It's not that! It's-"

 

The trauma surgeon raises her stoic gaze to observe the patient, interrupts the panicked nurse. "Charlotte."

 

"Exactly. I'm so sorry Ms Wolfe. I tried to tell you..." Donna implores with an apologetic expression.

 

"Tell Ms Wolfe what exactly?" Serena presses with a stealthy glare, having silently entered the room unnoticed after returning her pager and witnessing the commotion. She focuses on the girl. "Isn't that Charlotte? And she's pregnant?"

 

"Yes." Bernie clarifies curtly. "And it appears that free fluid of the abdomen is actually an internal bleed. She needs a exploratory laparotomy immediately. Get a close monitor on the baby and call obs and gynae."

 

"Dr Digby is already tied up in theatre, another patient crashed unexpectedly. And we are extremely under staffed on the surgeon front because everyone is at the gala."

 

"Then I'll do it myself." It's not a question, it's a brusque matter of fact conclusion and the blonde is already pivoting to prepare for theatre.

 

"You can't." Serena halts Bernie in her motions with a firm hand on her arm, "She's family."

 

"And you can't either after that many glasses of shiraz. Ric is even more intoxicated and flirting with a benefactress who's name I cannot remember. I'm sober and more than qualified. She needs to go to theatre now. There are two lives at stake!"

 

Bernie retorts sharply. Her mind is clearly made. _Orders_. Most definitely not up for discussion. It's time to focus on the gritty surgery ahead. Adrenaline saturates her veins and her head is in the game as she reluctantly forgets this is how own flesh and blood on the operating table.

 

"We'll have to discuss this later." Serena hisses, a stickler for and rules protocol. Most of the time. But time was of the essence. So she follows the blonde to change into scrubs and scrubs into her theatre herself alongside Bernie - for moral support, she promises.

 

For the first time in over six months, Bernie Wolfe steps into the operating theatre, holds out a steady hand and demands a scalpel.

 

It's only a few minutes into the procedure when the trauma surgeon huffs under her breath as the unborn child's heartbeat starts to fluctuate, "Dammit. She's loosing too much blood. Where is that obs and gynae specialist I requested?"

 

A hasten phone call reports the midwife is also delayed in emergency surgery. Left with very little other option, Bernie elects for an emergency c-section. With Serena on standby, hesitantly hold her breath as a tense five minutes pass by, she receives the unnervingly quiet premature baby upon delivery, shifting her into the awaiting incubator and bundling the infant in blankets. Instantly, she begins a light chest massage with her index finger, sighing in relief when a shrill of a wail reverberates the theatre.

 

"It's a girl. Serena murmurs, briefly tilting her head to engage eye contact with Bernie who's lips twitch into a small smile before she concentrates on the laparotomy.

 

"Perforated spleen." Already, she's started fixing the damage when she summarises the cause of the bleed. With stitches in place effortlessly fast, the girl's blood pressure and heart rate stabilise into the green, and she begins closing up.

 

They're at the sinks cleaning up upon completion of a successful surgery. Bernie throughly washes her arms and hands but Serena can see that she's tired. Her eye makeup has smudged and the concealer around her eyes has rubbed away, revealing pale dark circles. And the mood has altered. In a split second, Bernie's transitioned from surgeon mode into a worrying mother.

 

"You did it." Serena gently places her hand on the small of the blonde's back, silently offers her her overdue pain medication and a bottle of water which she gratefully accepts, though chooses not to admit.

 

"And that trauma unit has my name all over it." A simple declaration but her mind is elsewhere, "I need to find Donna."

 

They return to AAU in a quiet companionship, approaching the nurse at the central station as she flicks through case notes.

 

"Why wasn't I notified when my daughter was admitted?" Direct to the point, Bernie calmly demands an explanation.

 

Her demeanour appeared stoic and composed, yet inside she was rifled and angered, and Serena knew it having noticed the tiny details of uneasy posture and the motion of her hands curled into tight fidgety fists. The bitter darkness that enveloped her orbs.

 

"Mr Dunn was called. Said he would contact you."

 

"Oh." Bernie scoffs harshly and rolls her eyes sharply, "That _figures_." She spins awkwardly and sets off towards the office, her limp very much pronounced as she relies heavily on her cane from several hours on her feet. She aches.

 

With the gentle pad of her trainers, she knows Serena's following closely behind. And her sour rant regarding her ex husband continues briskly. "How dare he not think to contact me, withhold such serious information about our daughter. I may not be the most doting mother but I _do_ care about my children very much."

 

"Nobody said you didn't-"

 

"And where exactly is he? Absolutely nowhere to be seen. No surprise there!" Her legs threatens to buckle and she flops tiredly onto the sofa, allows the soft cushions to support her aching muscles.

 

Serena joins her lover, loops an arm around her muscular shoulders. The light tremors of pure rage shudder through Bernie's body, acrimony etched into the fine lines of her face.

 

"But you were there when it mattered. You completed the surgeries to save both of them." Her words are soft and true as she tenderly squeezes her shoulder.

 

Bernie's eyelids flutter shut and the silence is companionable. She tilts her head and props herself against Serena's shoulder. The brunette gently tangles her fingers in tousled hair, recalls that the simple motion delivered a secretly pacifying effect. Not that the big macho army medic would ever confess. She's still in a cogitative spiral, unspokenly cursing Marcus every name under the sun undoubtedly.

 

Slowly, her eyes open again and she stares up at the ceiling, her hand shifting to caress the nape of her neck. Still rooted deep in contemplation. She blows out a breath, tone low and muted.

 

"I didn't even know she was pregnant. I saw her only-" A crisp pause as she formulates the length of time and sighs regrettably when she conceives just how long. "Oh, it would be over _four_ months ago now."

 

Serena volunteers empathy with a small smile. "She wouldn't have been showing then, might not even have known herself. Try not to take it too personally."

 

A quiet knock interrupts them, Donna pokes her head round the door apprehensively and holds out two mugs of strong coffee, the piping hot steam swirling into the air. "Thought you may be in need of this. Charlotte's out of recovery now and coming round, if you want to see her."

 

Bernie squints across the room in the nurse's direction, presses her lips tightly together and gives a subtle nod of acknowledgement.

 

The brunette hurls herself to her feet and gratefully accepts the coffees, gulping a sip of hers almost instantly. She thanks the nurse, assures that they will go see Charlotte and the baby shortly. Momentarily, she perceives the trauma surgeon intently scan the room followed by a long, slow exhale.

 

"You've missed this place haven't you?"

 

Bernie nods, a hum reverberating at the back of her throat. "Mm. I'm back now, though."


End file.
